


Starstruck

by arrow_through_my_writers_block



Series: Starstruck - A Celebrity AU [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Romance, Romantic Comedy, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 61,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3611445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrow_through_my_writers_block/pseuds/arrow_through_my_writers_block
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrity AU. Felicity Smoak doesn't expect much from the mixed panel she attends at Comic-Con to help promote season three of her hit tv show. But, then again, no one informed her that mega movie star Oliver Queen would also be part of the panel. And she definitely didn't expect a friendship to form between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> This story came from a tumblr prompt sent in by an anonymous user. The prompt: OLICITY AU- Felicity is at comic con promoting season 3 of her TV show when she runs into Movie Star Oliver Queen at a mix panel!!
> 
> After posting a small scene (the beginning of this chapter), some followers were interested in seeing this story continue. So... here it is. I hope the anon is happy with the outcome of their prompt, and I hope everyone else here enjoys it as well. Leave kudos and comments. Especially comments. Let me know if this is something you're interested in reading more of! :D Thanks so much!

Felicity Smoak stands nervously backstage, waiting for the panel to begin. She’s the first celebrity to arrive and she’s been unable to learn who else will be in attendance for this mixed panel. She fidgets with her dress, smoothing out the wrinkles and making sure the hem is at a decent length. Volunteers dash back and forth, checking camera feeds and microphones, making sure everything is ready and up to Comic-Con standards. 

Slowly the other stars begin to arrive, some she’s met and others she hasn’t. She says hello and exchanges pleasantries. Everyone chats about upcoming films or television seasons, being supportive of their craft. A few moments before the panel moderator is set to take the stage, everyone begins gasping. Stars she might never have assumed to be the type to become starstruck suddenly begin swooning, making her feel a new wave of nervousness. 

She follows their gaze to find the biggest movie star of their current generation, heartthrob and overall hunk, the man you wanna be in a love scene with: Oliver Queen. No one goes to say hi. No one moves from their positions. Felicity watches as he stands confidently in a corner, waiting to be told where to go. She admires his broad shoulders and perfectly stubbled chin. And his eyes. Blue. Perfect blue. 

“All right. Here’s the line-up according to the place-cards on the table, everyone. Line up as I say.”

The volunteer reads off the list of panelist and they all begin to form a line in preparation for the introductions. The last two names recited are hers and Oliver Queen’s. She takes a deep breath and falls into line beside him. He glances down at her, then does a double-take. 

“Wait… Felicity Smoak…  _The_  Felicity Smoak…?”

She looks up at him, surprised. “Yeah…?”

He laughs excitedly. “I love your show!”

Her mouth drops open and she almost can’t bring her words out. “Y-you know my show? You watch my show? A huge movie star like you watches my little CW TV show? Are you kidding? I mean… you seem like the type of guy who would only watch sports and action flicks… Not that there’s anything wrong with that! I mean… you’re such a big name. Silly television shows don’t seem like your thing… Ugh. I need to shut up now.”

He smiles, a genuine one that makes her feel less ridiculous. “I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve always wanted to meet you but I’ve never gotten the chance!” He extends a hand and winks. “My name’s Oliver Queen.”

She takes his hand in hers and instantly can’t contain her giggles. “Felicity Smoak…” she chokes out between her fangirling. “Pleasure to meet you! Now let’s kick this panel’s ass!” 

Out on stage, the moderator is introducing himself and the purpose of the panel, getting laughs and cheers from the audience with each hint he gives. Felicity fidgets once more with her dress, straightening out a newly discovered wrinkle. Beside her, Oliver Queen chuckles. "You look great," he mumbles as the first panelist is called out to be met with lengthy applause. One by one, the next six panelists are introduced and met with the same excitement. 

"T-thanks," she stammers, silently cursing herself for not being more put together and confident in the way most people assume celebrities are. But Oliver Queen seems to find it... endearing. 

"...and next up we have the perfect girl next door with a deep dark, crime-fighting secret... Felicity Smoak!"

She puts on a smile, sends a little prayer out into the universe in the hopes she won't trip and begins to walk out onto the stage. Behind her, Oliver whispers an adorable encouragement that sounds to sexy. As if it came out of one of his films. Her cheeks grow warm with the thought. The lights hit her and she's instantly transported away from the darkness backstage and brought into the world of stardom. Fans cheer, applaud and shout out marriage proposals... the usual embarrassing stuff she never gets tired of. She loves her fans. She loves her job. 

As she takes a seat and the crowd quiets to a persistent murmur, she looks at the empty seat beside her, at the very end of the table. There's no nameplate by the microphone that her and Oliver will share, and she now knows that his appearance is a complete surprise for the audience. She grins. 

"...and last... the surprise all of you have been speculating about. The man of the hour, the man that makes every woman weak at the knees and every man wish he could be as perfectly toned. The one. The only. _Oliver Queen_!"

The audience goes insane. The marriage proposals triple, sent out by men and women alike. Oliver steps out, feigning nervousness, but Felicity can tell just how much he loves the attention. He catches her gaze and winks like he did before. The moderator was completely right about the weak knees thing. Every woman in the hall must be feeling it and Oliver Queen knows it. When he arrives at his seat, he digs a nameplate out of his back pocket and places it in front of him, then leans over toward the mic. "You know... In case you have no idea who I am."

The moderator laughs. "That's not likely, buddy."

The panelists get situated, taking sips of water and then the questions rapidly begin. Each one receives one directed specifically at them regarding whatever new project they are promoting. The answers are thoughtful, most of them rehearsed and all of them completely spoiler-free. When the time comes for Felicity to speak, she listens intently to the question, not wanting any word-vomit to overflow and take up valuable panel time. 

"So, Felicity," the moderator begins, glancing down at his notes. "Your character went through some really intense development last season. How will this impact her going into season three?"

Felicity gulps down her nerves and smiles. "Well," she murmurs, leaning into the mic and catching the godlike scent of Oliver's cologne. "First I have to ask... How many of you have seen the season two finale?" The hall erupts into screams and cries, many of them containing crucial plot twists that shocked the fandom. "Okay... Good. Well, I'd say all the drama really established my character as a strong woman. I mean, we've always known she was strong intellectually. But I think in the first season she appeared very emotionally fragile. Last season we really worked to establish her potential as a true cyber vigilante. And all I can say about season three is that she will kick major ass... 'cause, remember... She's a bitch with wifi, and she's not afraid to use it."

More screams and cheers erupt, causing her to feel great pride in herself and her answers. Leaning back, away from the mic, she whispers: "No word-vomit! Win!" Beside her, Oliver chokes on a gulp of water. He turns to her and laughs once his mini coughing fit passes. "Sorry," she mouths to him, and he waves off the apology with a shaky smile.

"Well... Oliver Queen," the moderator says before being drowned out by the audience. "Geez, guys! Settle down!" The hall quiets and the moderator nods as he goes over his notes once again. "You've been in some major blockbusters recently... big action films, a superhero flick. All very physically demanding work. What made you decide to put the big studio productions aside and try your hand at the indie genre?"

Felicity frowns. The question comes off slightly negative, as if such serious pursuits are beneath an actor like Oliver. She glances over at him and can tell he's feeling the same way. His hands are balled into fists beneath the table as he considers his answer. His brows are furrowed as he leans awkwardly forward and says, "I wanted to try something new."

The simplicity of his words brings a rumbling murmur up from the crowd and everyone on the panel goes stiff. 

The moderator chuckles, clearly uncomfortable. "Some might say you're heading down the road of Ryan Gosling, with all his indie works over the past few years. Is that what you're going for?"

Oliver shakes his head. "I'm not really going for anything, specifically. I've hit a point in my career that I feel like putting serious thought into the stories and characters I choose to bring to life. As fun as it is to run around in a superhero costume or film a fight scene with the likes of Sylvester Stallone, I'd really like to bring my acting to the next level and do something that truly means something to me emotionally. And hey, if I can remain as popular as Ryan Gosling, it's a win-win."

The crowd cheers and then the panel continues. The moderator is off-kilter after Oliver's answer, but remains peppy for the sake of the show. The final question before opening the floor for fans is the one everyone knew was coming: "All right. Let's go down the line. Who on this panel would you like to work with?"

The audience is dead-silent. No one laughs. No one speaks. Somewhere in the back of the hall a phone goes off, but no one goes to scold the person for their bad manners. Every other panelist answers that they'd love to work with Oliver Queen. When it comes to Felicity, she follows suit. "I'd be crazy to say anyone other than this guy." She nudges him playfully and he smiles down at her, clearly flattered.

Oliver chuckles into the microphone and everyone hold their breath. He glances toward Felicity and says: "I'd love you work with Felicity Smoak. Is there any way I could make a guest appearance on your show?"

She gawks at him, shocked. As the audience reacts, she shakes herself out of her stupefied silence and says: "I'll see what I can do..."

* * *

 

The panel is over. Photo ops are done and the panelists are congregating backstage, chatting and milling around as the next collection of celebrities gather. No one speaks to Oliver Queen, and he doesn't seem to care. Felicity watches him from her spot in a circle of women talking about some of the cosplayers they've seen throughout their time at the con. He's watching her as well, sending odd somersaults through her stomach and more flush to her cheeks. Finally she works up the courage to confront him.

"So," she says, drawing the word out as she comes to stand in front of him. She looks up at him and can't help but marvel at how gorgeous he is. It's no wonder he was cast as a Greek god. "Were to serious?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Serious about what?"

"About wanting to work with me..."

He nods. "Oh yes. Like I said before, I love your show. If there's any way I could cameo or something, I'd love to."

She laughs a little, unsure how to let him know the unfortunate truth. "Oliver, as awesome as it'd be to have you for an episode, I highly doubt our measly production can afford you." She looks up at him through her lashes. "Not that you're expensive or high maintenance or anything. But you _are_ high profile and I don't think-"

"I'd do it for free. Just to do it."

Her mouth drops for a moment before she blurts out: "No agent or manager would ever allow their talent to work for free... on anything."

He leans in, hiding his mouth behind his hand as if he's going to indulge her with a really juicy piece of gossip. "I have my manager wrapped around my finger." He lets loose another wink, turning her knees momentarily to jelly. 

"Ah, well... I guess I will see what I can do." She looks around and finds her family peeking in through one of the exits. She smiles and waves them away. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Oliver Queen. I hope to see you again soon." She holds out her hand and he takes it gently into his. The size difference is baffling, but somehow it feels right. They fit together well despite having only just met. The idea makes Felicity feel giddy and on the verge of fangirling. 

"I know we will..." he replies, letting her hand go and walking away toward a bodyguard hiding in the shadows. 

Once he is out of earshot, Felicity closes her eyes, a new wave of shock running over her. "Oliver Queen wants to work with _me_?"


	2. A Few Too Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness! I am so amazed and flattered and thrilled by the response this story has gotten! I've been writing some Arrow fics since last year and none of them have garnered the following this one has with just one chapter! Thank you thank you thank you! I hope I don't let you down as the story goes on!
> 
> I've had plenty of ideas for this next chapter, but I've just now gotten to the point where I know how I want it to go. So I hope you enjoy this! Leave comments, kudos... share it with the fandom on tumblr! Whatever you like! But the comments are most important.

[Felicity's Comic-Con outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=153854989)

[Felicity's Old Town outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=153856413)

* * *

 

Felicity keeps a low profile at the convention, nervous about attracting too much attention. She waits for major panels to be underway before adventuring into the vendor's hall to explore, hoping the crowds are thinner and less perceptive. She winds her way through the rows of booths, stopping to gawk at the exclusive products and limited edition collectibles. She admires the intricate displays at major studio booths... Marvel has statues of their most anticipated new villains and screens running trailers on a loop. Lionsgate and Summit have their newest young adult adaptation stamped all over their booth, leaving little room for their indie films, of which Felicity starred in a supporting role of one. She sighs. _There's a reason studios cast stars like Oliver Queen and make blockbusters..._

She's made her way to the back of the hall, finding secluded booths with unknown artists, authors and other creators. She peruses an indie comic book vendor, gathering a few titles in her arms that seem worthwhile. She goes to pay, finding the college-age, bespectacled cashier trembling as she rings up the issues.

"You're... _Felicity Smoak_ , right?" The cashier leans in and whispers her name discreetly, much to Felicity's approval. There aren't a lot of shoppers around, but the consideration this girl shows for Felicity's privacy is beyond what most fans might have shown.

Felicity nods, smiling. "Yes."

The girls giggles and turns around. She looks to make sure no one is paying attention, then digs out a small object from under the table. "No one ever comes around here," she says as she faces Felicity once more. "I know it is unprofessional of me -not to mention against the rules for vendors- but can you sign this for me?" She hold up a mass market paperback. A novelization of the first season of Felicity's show. It is worn and clearly a favorite. The girl opens up to the title page and Felicity sees signatures from other cast members. 

"Of course I can sign it! Got a pen?"

The girl nods enthusiastically and pulls out a red pen; the same red pen Felicity's character always has tucked behind her ear in intense hacking scenes. Felicity blushes and signs her name with a flourish, then leaves a little smiley face beside it -her usual personal touch. She hands it back to the girl. "Here ya go. By the way, I love your glasses." She points to her own with a smile. 

"They are so much more comfortable than others, right?" 

Felicity nods. "They rarely fall down your nose!"

They nod and giggle, then she continues to ring up the comics. With a few more comments and a quick goodbye, Felicity leaves the booth, her heart warm. She loves fan encounters, but loves the spontaneous personal ones the most. She glances down at her _Betsey Johnson_ watch and feels a wave of panic. "Press junket in five minutes, Smoak! Move your ass!" she hisses as she starts running to the nearest exit.

She rushes through a hallway lined with small rooms marked for press interviews. She glances at each sign, looking for one displaying her show's logo. The hallway feels endless and her feet are starting to ache.  _Why do I always choose to wear heels!?_ She finally catches sight of her room and comes to halt by the door, breathing heavily and feeling a slight hint of sweat on her brow.  _I really need to work out more often... or lay off the mint chip... or both. Probably both._ She allows her breathing to level out and her heart to slow from its rapid pace before entering the room. Her fellow cast members are seated next to the producers at small round tables scattered around the room. 

Felicity finds her seat next to Roy Harper just as they open the door for the journalists. He gives her a little nudge. "Where the hell were you?"

She holds up the bag of comics before hiding it under the table. "Shopping," she murmurs. She smooths out the wrinkles, straightens her necklace and takes a deep breath as the first set interviewers take their seats. Everyone introduces themselves and then the questions start flying. Most are directed at the producers at first.  _Thank goodness..._ Felicity thinks, leaning back in her chair in a way that is not professional. Roy looks over at her and frowns, letting out a disapproving cough. She sighs quietly and sits back up, the picture of perfect posture. 

"Miss Smoak," one of the interviewers begins, turning her voice recorder in Felicity's direction. "The world is talking about your interaction with Oliver Queen at the mixed actors panel this morning. Have the two of you met previously?"

Felicity smiles politely, trying to hide her annoyance. "No. We haven't met previously."

"Do you think it's a possibility that he could guest star on the show? He seemed quite eager."

"I'm not really the one to ask about that," Felicity answers, then points to the producer on the other side of Roy. "I think you want to direct that question to that guy."

The interviewer turns her recorder back to the producer. "Is it a possibility?"

"As of now, I don't think so. But, we haven't started filming yet, so I can't really say for sure. I had no idea he was even a fan of the show. If there's any way we can get him on, that would be fantastic. But nothing has even been discussed."

The recorder turns back to Felicity. "Would you like to work with him?"

"I'd be crazy if I didn't," Felicity laughs, then folds her hands in front of her on the table. "But, of course, I think it'd be best to discuss the show and not the brilliance of Oliver Queen."

Felicity watches as the woman's eyes grow wide at the comment, then directs a few questions at Roy and the budding romance of their characters on the show. Felicity feels a sense of pride in herself.  _If only you could handle more reporters like that, Smoak!_

* * *

 After a couple hours, the press junket ends and Felicity stands, stretching her legs. Beside her, Roy leans forward in his seat to tie his custom red and black _Converse_. She clears her throat, causing him to look up at her. "Yes?"

"So," she begins excitedly. "I was thinking about heading up to Old Town for some Mexican food and awesome tequila. Cheap margaritas all over the place! Wanna join?"

He stands and they make their way out of the room and back out to the endless hallway of high heels hell. "You were gonna go there alone?"

"I assumed you'd join me no matter what." 

He laughs. "Well, I wouldn't miss out on the tequila," he says, then nods. "Of course I'll join. What time?"

"How about six?"

" _Six_ for what?" a voice asks, and Felicity stops dead in her tracks.  _How does this keep happening!?_

She spins around awkwardly to find Oliver Queen standing an almost inappropriately close distance for her, smirking. His expression sends of wave of nerves through her and she can feel the word-vomit that could have escaped her at the panel bubbling up. She gulps it down before speaking. "We're going to Old Town for some food and margaritas later."

He looks down at her and she can sense his desperate need to feel normal. "Can I join?" he asks, his eyes almost begging, hopeful. She has to look away before his blue gaze crushes her. Knowing a minimal amount about him, she assumes people rarely reject or deny him. Coming from a rich family and being the heir to a Fortune 500 company implies a lavish life with very little to worry about. _He can't know what it's like to be told 'no.'_  She wonders what it might be like to tell him no; something tells her it might be satisfying and then instantly something she will regret. 

She looks back up at his eyes still boring into her and she starts feeling really giddy and lightheaded.  _Stop it, Smoak! Get it together!_ "If you wanna join us, meet us at the Old Town Tequila Factory at six."

With that, she leaves him there, waving goodbye to Roy as she walks away in a hurry. 

* * *

 She digs through her luggage, searching for a suitable outfit. Even though she had simply given Oliver Queen the option of joining them, she knows without a doubt that he'll be there waiting for them. She can sense it. And the disinterested manner of their exchange now feels like a flirty playing-hard-to-get that she hadn't intended. _Or did I?_ she wonders as she holds up a bright pink spaghetti strap top. She stands in front of the mirror, holding the top up against her. "Perfect!" 

She pairs it with a pair of black skin-tight jeans, then starts rifling through the small collection of jewelry she brought with her. She finds a simple pair of drop earrings puts them on, admiring the small gemstones as they shimmer in the hotel room light. She tugs on the jeans, then slips the top on, smoothing the fabric against her chest and stomach to get the wrinkles out.

"Why does he even want to go?" she asks as she tosses aside lonely pairs of shoes in her search for a specific pair of wedge heels. Finally locating them, she puts them on and stands, enjoying the sensation of height. While she might be average height, compared to the rest of Hollywood, she was tiny. _Compared to Oliver Queen..._ she begins to think, then shakes her head. "Nope. Don't do it. Don't fantasize about a man who is clearly interested in working with you and might hang out with you and your friends..." She begins to pace, unable to keep images of Oliver Queen shirtless from her mind. "No! Stop it, Smoak! Ugh! I really need to stop talking to myself."

She touches up her make-up, adding a dash of blush to each cheek and her signature pink lipstick, dabbing her lips with a tissue to lighten the shade slightly. She eyes herself in the mirror, checking for any holes or stains, both of which are common on her clothes. Finding nothing amiss, she grabs her clutch and makes her way out of the room. 

Throughout the elevator ride down, she forces herself not to think of Oliver Queen. She runs through potential questions she'll get at tomorrow's official show panel. She runs her fingers through her hair, already finding tangles. She adjusts her glasses without them needing any adjustment. The doors slide open and she scurries out and toward the entrance. She picks up her car from valet and begins the harrowing journey through San Diego traffic.  _These are the moments I wish I didn't always insist on forgoing the town car,_ she thinks as she gets stuck in a traffic jam on the freeway mere minutes away from the Old Town exit.  _Good thing I left early._

Once the worst of the traffic has passed, she finally exits the perils of the freeway and makes her way up surface streets to Old Town. She parks a few blocks away, down a side street to avoid paying for parking. "They probably wouldn't have charged me," she murmurs as she fumbles with her keys in an attempt to stuff them into her clutch. The pain in her feet isn't as strong as it was earlier in the day, but she can still feel it. "I need alcohol."

Once surrounded by the buildings of Old Town, she makes were way to the vendors, enjoying the handmade products and stereotypical near-the-Mexican-border souvenirs. No one seems to be paying her much attention. A few people spot her, but they don't make a move for autographs or pictures. She smiles to herself, happy to know that her fans are so thoughtful. This makes her wonder how the evening might go if Oliver Queen decides to join them. Paparazzi everywhere. Squealing fans. She shudders, her nervousness building. She glances at her watch and sees it is almost time to meet everyone. She turns and makes her way to her chosen restaurant. From a considerable distance, she can already see _him_ standing there, waiting.  _Shit..._

"I thought you'd be one of those who would be here early," Oliver Queen says with a laugh as she finally arrives. 

"I got here early, but I just walked around for a little while. I love this place."

He nods. "It's been years since I've been here."

They stand in awkward silence for a few moments, looking at one another. Felicity breaks their connection and looks at her watch. "Roy is always late," she says, wiping a smudge from the watch-face. "And another friend of mine, Caitlin Snow, won't be here until a little later."

Oliver chuckles. "Well, I hope it's okay that I invited a friend as well...?"

She nods. "Of course it's okay. The more the merrier." With that, Roy appears from around the corner, still dressed in his press junket suit. "You couldn't change before?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "When I look like this?"

All three of them laugh. Roy and Oliver shake hands and exchange a few comments, most of which Felicity ignores as she glances around, wondering who Oliver might have invited. The streets and shops are beginning to overflow with crowds and her anxiousness grows at a faster rate.  _If anyone notices Oliver Queen... the night will be ruined._ As she scans the sidewalks, she catches sight of a behemoth of a man with an amused smirk etched across his face. She instantly recognizes him. "You invited John Diggle!?" she hisses, slapping Oliver's arm. Roy spins around in shock, then gives Felicity a sideways glance that tells her he wants them to invite Oliver Queen everywhere. 

"Yeah. Is that okay? He was in town for the convention and I thought he'd be a nice addition."

John Diggle waves toward them and Oliver returns the gesture as he walks up to his friend.  _His friend John-effing-Diggle._ As they walk over, Oliver begins to make introductions. Felicity's cheeks warm as she shakes John Diggle's hand, feeling the strength behind the gentleness he shows. "It's so nice to meet you! I have such respect for your work. I mean, it couldn't have been easy acting on action film sets after your brother died a-la Brandon Lee. Terrible tragedy..." Felicity looks around at the three men and instantly feels embarrassment mounting and burying her into the sidewalk. "And I shouldn't have said that. Shit. That was really messed up. I'm so sorry, Mister Diggle."

John Diggle laughs heartily. "Please, call me Digg. And don't worry about it." He pats her on the shoulder lightly. "I do what I do in his memory."

"With that cringe-fest out of the way," Roy exclaims, taking attention off Felicity. "Can we go get some food. I'm starving and I can smell the awesomeness."

They all nod and make their way inside. At the sight of Oliver and Digg, the staff make it their point to give them the best spot out on the balcony. They take their seats and are welcomed by a gorgeous view of Old Town and the greater San Diego area beyond. The summer air is warm but the breeze up on the balcony is refreshing. They are handed their menus and they all order drinks. Roy insists on starting the night off with a round of tequila shots, of which the two other men agree without hesitation. Felicity is outnumbered, but she can't deny the desire to try some of the restaurant's famed liquor. Along with the shots she orders a house margarita and a glass of water, remembering what her mother had always told her: "You can drink all you want, but you gotta make sure to keep yourself hydrated. Always order water with your drinks." Oliver and Digg each order draft beers.

The conversation overflows even before the shots arrive, all of the guys instantly finding a camaraderie she has no part in. She peruses the menu, keenly aware of Oliver Queen's warmth beside her. She keeps checking her watch, waiting for the time that Caitlin will arrive to save her from the testosterone overload. She digs her phone out of her clutch and shoots Caitlin a text, begging for her to hurry. 

"Alright, everyone," the waitress exclaims as she comes to the table with a tray of beverages. "I hope you're ready for all of this." She sets everyone's drinks onto the table and then pulls her notepad out of her apron pocket. "Everyone know what they want?"

They all order their food and then the waitress leaves them to their shots. Roy smiles across the table from Felicity, holding up his glass. "To new friends!"

"To new friends!" they all chant before downing the shot. Felicity closes her eyes in an attempt to ease the burning cascading down her throat. When she opens them again, he glances at Oliver. He's completely stoic and unfazed by the intensity of the shot. "That was some strong stuff," she mumbles as she gulps down some water.

Oliver shrugs, gazing down at her with a grin. "Considering my father keeps a collection of fine Russian vodka on hand back in Starling City, this is nothing..."

She nods. "That's right. You're rich..." She looks up at him to find his brow raised slightly. "Well, I mean, of course you're rich. You're a movie star. What I meant to say is that you've always been rich."

"That would be correct," he responds, taking a sip of his beer, clearly fighting back laughter. 

She hangs her head slightly and starts on her margarita, wondering how much worse her word-vomit could become once the alcohol starts loosening her tongue even more.  _Or does it have the opposite effect? Why don't I know this already?_

"Felicity!"

She looks up to see Caitlin coming through the doorway, her smile fading as she catches sight of the other people seated around the table.  _Shit. I didn't tell her Oliver Queen was gonna be here._ "Caitlin! I'm  _so_ glad you made!" Felicity proclaims, rising from her chair awkwardly to hug her friend. She turns and introduces her to the table... not that introductions were really necessary. 

"It's so nice to meet you two," Caitlin says, her cheeks growing red and her hands beginning to shake. As she seats herself next to Felicity, she leans in and mutters: "Why didn't you warn me two of the world's most talked about actors would be here for dinner!?"

"Sorry," Felicity mouths just as a basket of chips is placed on the table along with two bowls of salsa. Everyone digs in and starts chatting, getting to know one another. Felicity remains quiet, worried about what nonsense could spill out of her mouth.  _I've already reminded Digg of his dead brother and made silly comments about Oliver's money... It can only get worse._

Caitlin nudges Felicity. "Oliver won't stop looking at you."

Felicity looks at her friend, confused. "Really?" She casts a sideways glance toward Oliver to find him doing the same thing. She can feel her face going hot. She looks back at Caitlin and feigns nonchalance. "I have no idea why..."

"Well, in case you didn't know, all the internet is talking about is his interest in making an appearance on your show. For a moment, I thought you might actually break the internet."

The waitress interrupts to get Caitlin's food and drink order, then refills Felicity's water. The conversation at the table gets lively as the drinks slowly empty. Felicity savors her margarita, unwilling to drink it too fast for fear of what such a beverage might lead her to do if she stares at Oliver Queen too long. Glancing at him, she finds him smiling broadly, genuinely. She can tell he doesn't smile often, and it makes her feel good to put him in a situation where he might actually be enjoying himself. She runs a hand through her hair and then takes a deep breath, feeling slightly less on edge. 

"How'd the two of you meet?" Oliver asks, leaning forward to look over at Caitlin. 

"College. I actually credit myself for Felicity getting into acting. If it weren't for my helpful, best-friend nudge, she might be sitting in a dank office working I.T. I mean-"

"That's what I originally wanted to do," Felicity interrupts, after taking a lengthy sip of her margarita.  _To hell with this. This thing is too damn good to neglect._ "Then she convinced me to join the university's improv club. What was it you said...?"

Caitlin chuckles. "I think I said something about how your babbles might be beneficial to the improv actors, and maybe you'd find yourself a new hobby."

"And did the babbles help the actors?" Oliver asks as he looks down at Felicity, his eyes warm and bright with amusement. 

"Yes," she answers, looking away to glare at Caitlin. "But really... that's not an interesting story. How about we hear how the brilliant Oliver Queen got into acting..."

There was silence as everyone else at the table nodded with interest. Felicity turned back to find Oliver smiling down at her as if challenging her in some sort of flirtatious battle, but she didn't understand what the battle was about. It was a simple question to answer. Anyone at the table could answer that question with ease, right? "Running a company didn't seem like something I'd enjoy. What did seem like a good idea was shooting action scenes and making out with hot actresses." He winks, making everyone laugh. "It's really that simple.

Something in the way he reaches for his beer and takes a swig tells her that there's more to the story, and she wonders whether she'll ever get to learn more. 

* * *

 

"Why would you drive here when you could use a town car?" Oliver asks as he, along with Roy, carries Felicity down the street toward her car.

She laughs incessantly, unable to control what comes out of her mouth. Her face is hot and her vision blurs, making it feel as though the world is moving by her while she stands still. But her feet are moving awkwardly, tripping over Oliver's every few steps. She leans into him and sniffs his button up shirt, once again admiring his choice of cologne. Suddenly the smell triggers a wave of queasiness and she groans. "Oh god, why did I drink so many margaritas!?"

Roy chuckles, gripping her waist a little tighter as she stumbles over a rut in the road. "I'm pretty sure we asked you that, and you just giggled and gulped one down in a few seconds."

She raises her head and looks up at Oliver. He returns her gaze and smiles sympathetically. "I don't normally do this," she admits, feeling an extreme case of embarrassment. "Truly."

"I believe you," he says as they finally come to her car. He glances at Roy. "I'll drive her back to her hotel. You mentioned you drove yourself here as well, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm safe to drive. I had one shot and one beer. I was afraid this might happen," he says, jerking his head down in her direction. "Are you sure you don't want me to take her?"

"It's fine. I took a town car... something my family insists I do..." Oliver sighs, then continues. "You can follow behind us, if you like. You can help me get her up to her room."

Roy nods. "Sure. Just let me pull my car around." And then he's gone. 

Felicity tries to keep her eyes down, away from Oliver, but his allure is intense and she can't help but gaze up into his blue eyes. He leads her to the passenger seat, then waits. "What's the hold up?" she asks, her words slurring slightly at the end. 

He holds out his free hand. "Keys, please?"

"Oh," she murmurs, then laughs again as she digs her keys out of her clutch and drops them into his palm, amazed by the size of his hands. He unlocks and opens the door, then eases her into the seat. After the door shuts, she lets out a breath. "Those hands were crafted by the God himself!" she exclaims, then instantly regrets it as she hears him chuckle outside of the car. 

He gets in and starts the ignition. He turns down the radio and then switches the A/C to full blast, turning all of the vents to face Felicity. She basks in the cold air, letting it dry her clammy skin and soothe her pounding head and roiling ickiness. Once the worst of the nausea is over, she turns to face Oliver, finding him watching her with concern etched onto his face. "Thank you, Oliver."

For a moment he closes his eyes and smiles. When he opens them once more, she can see some intense emotion. Or maybe she's imagining it in her drunken haze. But he nods. "No problem," he whispers, letting his hand rest on her hands clenched in her lap. With his touch, her muscles instantly relax and he rests her head back on the seat and closes her eyes, letting herself succumb to a car ride nap. 

Halfway through the drive, however, she wakes up. She lifts her heavy eyes toward Oliver and watches him, finding his concentration incredibly sexy. WIth each streetlight that illuminates his face, she grows even more enthralled. She looks down at his hand still resting atop hers and smiles. She moves her left hand out from under his and slowly lets it graze his leg. She finds his pocket and digs his phone out, drawing out a protest from his lips. "Felicity, what the hell are you doing?" But he doesn't stop her. He simply keeps driving, getting them closer to their hotels.

She puts her name in his phone, unwilling to let this opportunity pass. She shoves the phone back in his pocket and then resumes her napping position, simply muttering, "Now you have my number."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: If anything about Old Town or the restaurant are incorrect, please forgive me. It has been years since I've been to Old Town San Diego.


	3. Textual Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity wakes after an embarrassing night out with Oliver Queen to meet the craziness of Comic-Con and her show's panel. Little does she know, however, that Oliver will there with her almost every step of the way.

[Felicity's pajamas.](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=154512737)

[Felicity's Comic-Con outfit.](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=153863488)

* * *

Felicity awakens with an ache in her head and her phone buzzing incessantly. She groans as she stretches across the king size bed toward the side table, covering the glowing screen with her palm. She opens one eye as she attempts to lower the brightness of the screen, then brings it close to her face to find multiple messages awaiting her. She can't bring herself to peruse them without being in her wide-awake-mode. She groggily leaves the bed, finding the room freezing. She rushes over to the A/C unit and turns it off, then slips her feet into her sock monkey slippers. She opens the blackout curtains and finds the morning sunlight welcoming despite how painful it is to her unacclimated eyes. 

She walks to the restroom. She switches the light on and finds herself in her pajamas.  _How did I get in these? How did I get into my room?_ As she takes care of her morning business, she sweeps through her memories of the night before, catching snapshots of conversations and actions. She vaguely recalls stumbling into the room with Roy and Oliver at her heels, unwilling to leave her alone until she was safely prepared for bed. She glances down at the bathroom floor and finds her clothes from the night before in a lumpy pile on the tile. She recalls looking in the mirror and laughing at her hair and smudged eyeliner. "Jeez..." 

She washes her hands and face, then brushes her teeth. She slips on her glasses and moves back out into the room, hopping onto the bed. She grabs her phone and begins scrolling through her text messages. 

 **Caitlin:** **OMG I still can't believe you're friends with Oliver Queen!**

 **-** _7:13am_

**Roy: I know you'll be sleeping late, but here's a video of your drunken shenanigans last night.**

                                                                              - _8:26am_

She opens the attachment with one eye closed, as if that can keep half of the embarrassment away. She watches as she dances about the room in her pajamas, repeatedly asking if they're filming: "You better be filming this!" In the background she hears Roy and Oliver both laughing and telling her she needs to get some rest. Finally she jumps onto the bed and is almost instantly snoring. Oliver reaches over her and pulls the blankets up, covering her up to her neck. He looks up at the camera and smiles, giving Roy a thumbs up before the video ends. 

Felicity groans. "Why would I want them to film me!?"

She leaves the video and goes to her other messages. The rest are uninteresting. Her agent reminding her of the panel. Her mom wishing her luck and saying how proud she is. More freak outs from Caitlin. Then she reaches the final messages... the ones that had woken her up. She sees the name and can't help but smile. 

**Oliver Queen**

"He must have put his number in my phone."

She opens the messages and instantly feels waves of more embarrassment, excitement and nervousness. 

**Oliver Queen: Good morning! Since you forced your number into my phone last night, I figured I'd do the same. But I didn't have to take it out of your pocket to do it.**

_-10:30am_

**Oliver Queen: I am letting you know that you will soon receive a knock on your door. It will be room service. I've ordered you a fantastic hangover breakfast to get your day started.**

   _-10:31am_

**Oliver Queen: And before you protest, it is already ordered. Just enjoy it. And don't worry about paying me back or anything - It is my pleasure. Enjoy your day. Hope to see you around the Con.**

                                                                              _-10:32am_

Felicity simply stares at the words, running them over and over. The idea of Oliver Queen caring enough to order room service for her will not sink in. "Holy shit."

With that, a knock sounds on the door and she jumps up, excited to see what he might have ordered her. She thanks the server, giving him a small tip before he exits the room, leaving her with a cart full of deliciousness. There's a bowl of mixed fruit: strawberries, mangoes, blackberries and raspberries. There's a picture perfect chocolate chip muffin. There's a gloriously big pot of coffee and multiple flavor packets to add to each cup refill. There's a glass of orange juice, a bottle of water and then, finally, a small bottle of aspirin. Seeing it reminds her of the pain in her head and she twists the cap off, taking two with a swig of water. 

Beneath the bottle of aspirin, she finds a handwritten note. She admires each letter and word, then finally reads it with comprehension. 

_To get you in tip-top shape for your panel today. You'll be wonderful, and I'm certain there will be zero word-vomit escaping your mouth today! -OQ_

She reads it a few times and can't fight back the silly smile spreading across face. She sits down at the table and nibbles at the muffin, enjoying each chocolatey bite. Finally she loses her calm and starts giggling. "I can't seriously be this lucky..."

* * *

She stands backstage with Roy, listening and blushing as he tells their co-stars all about their evening with Oliver Queen. She keeps her eyes down and fidgets with the structured frill on her dress, eyeing each stitch. She can hear the crowd out in the event hall; what might sound like normal chatter with just two people multiplied by six thousand. The sound is deafening.  _Was it that loud yesterday?_ She can't recall hearing such a rumble of voices. 

"I still can't believe he invited John Diggle! That man is a beast..." Roy has their co-stars eating out of the palm of his hand with his tale. "I wish I could get that buff."

"You're too lazy for that," Felicity murmurs, and she looks up to catch a glare from Roy before he moves on to describe more of their night, complete with Felicity's margarita guzzling.

It is a godsend when the moderator begins introducing the panel. The producers are called out first, then supporting cast. Felicity waits as the moderator teases her arrival even though everyone knows who from the cast is left. She opens Instagram on her phone, turning on the video feature. 

"Let me hear you scream for _Felicity Smoak_!" the moderator exclaims and she goes out onto the stage, hitting the record button. She waves to the screaming room, unable to keep the excitement from her face. She takes her seat beside Roy, snapping a quick selfie with him before the panel begins.

"I'd like to start out by saying that season two was a fantastic ride!" The crowd cheers, forcing the moderator to raise his arm to call for silence. "How early on did you know that so many of the characters would die in the end?" he continues, directing the question to the producers.

They look at one another and laugh lightly. "Well," one begins, leaning toward the mic. "It was a decision we made at the end of season one, actually. We knew our main character needed more of a push, something that would help her understand the importance of her work and mission. So it seemed only natural to take away her major support system and those with whom she relied so heavily." They glance over at her and she returns their smiles. "And we knew we had a truly capable actress to take on such emotionally intense scenes."

The crowd cheers again, and Felicity blushes. _Well, at least I know I did it well..._

"Felicity," the moderator faces her, grinning. "What's it like playing one of the most badass women in television?"

"It's awesome," she says. "It is great to play a character who is tough and extremely intelligent. If she weren't intelligent and so tech-savvy, I might not have been interested in the role at all. That part of her character is my favorite part."

"How much of the computer lingo is real and how much is made up?"

Felicity can't help but laugh at this question. "It's all real," she answers simply. When the moderator doesn't continue, she elaborates. "I have a degree in computer engineering so I often correct the writers or improvise when something is not correct."

This brings a murmur from the crowd that silences Felicity.  _No one likes hearing that an actress is also smart._ Breaking the awkwardness is a thunderous cheer from the women in the crowd, sending a wave of pride through her.  _At least the women support me..._

The moderator directs the questions at Roy, leaving Felicity to listen attentively. Halfway through Roy's answer, her phone vibrates in hand resting in her lap. She looks up, checking that all eyes are on Roy, then checks the message discreetly. 

**Oliver Queen: The fans who can't respect your intelligence are idiots.**

                                                                             _-3:15pm_

She looks around, trying to see past the spotlights and flashes from cameras, but she doesn't see him. Her fingers fly, typing a message with practiced quickness. She hits send.

**Me: You're here... at the panel?**

_-3:15pm_

"Felicity," the moderator says, glancing down at his notes. "Can you tease anything about this new season?"

She clears her throat in an attempt to calm herself.  _Oliver Queen is here... at the panel... Keep calm. He's just a guy..._ "Well, the death of her mother will definitely send her onto a quest for revenge. My only hope is that she can find a reason to find peace and acceptance."

Roy begins adding to the question, teasing that maybe their characters can help one another with that. As he speaks, her phone goes off once, then twice.

**Oliver Queen: Of course I'm here!**

_-3:17pm_

**Oliver Queen: Maybe I can guest star as a reason for your character to find peace and acceptance...?**

                                                                          _-3:17pm_

Felicity stares down at the message, confused by his meaning. Dozens of different scenarios run through her head, dancing and flickering like candlelight.  _Did he just imply that he could play love interest for me?_ The thought brings a warm blush to her cheeks and she can't bring herself to answer him back; how does one respond to such things? She looks out at the audience, smiling and waving to fans seeking her attention. This keeps her mind away from inappropriate images. 

"Okay, one last question before we turn it over to the fans," the moderator announces. "Whoever is willing to answer... Yesterday we were all shocked by Oliver Queen's interest in appearing on the show. Is there any plans to take him up on the offer? And if so, any ideas on who he could play?"

The producers chuckle in sync with one another. Then one leans forward. "We've begun discussing this... If it is possible, we'd love to have him. But, as of now, we have to ideas for him or any other guest stars outside of the first few episodes."

This causes an eruption of chants demanding Oliver Queen, and another text to Felicity's phone. 

**Oliver Queen: It appears the fans know what they want.**

_-3:22pm_

She rolls her eyes without hesitation or care of who might notice, then sends her own message.

**Me: I think someone's full of themselves.**

_-3:22pm_

Fans line up behind a microphone on either side of the hall, ready with their questions. She attempts to keep her attention on each of the fans, knowing she would not have anything without their continued support. Each question focuses primarily on Felicity's character; some seek answers to unresolved plot points, some want to know her favorite line from season 2. She answers each one graciously, keeping them enthralled. She hopes her appreciation for their interest in her work shows in her answers. 

"Okay, one last question," the moderator proclaims. Suddenly the hall is abuzz with chatter, gasps and fangirling screams. Felicity scans the room, finding the microphone and a very familiar tall, muscular person behind it, smiling. 

"Hi," he says, and the audience erupts into cheers. "I have a question for Miss Smoak."

She can feel her face flooding with a powerful blush.  _Will this never end...?_ "Yes, Mister Queen?"

"Would you like to go to dinner with me," he begins, sending women into girlish chatter and swoons before he finishes the question: "...to discuss potential collaborations?"

She laughs loudly into the mic, unable to control the giddiness that has overcome her. She clears her throat and answers: "My people will get in touch with your people..."

The hall fills with thunderous laughter and she watches as Oliver's cheeks change color to mimic her own. With that obvious flirtation out of the way, the moderator thanks the cast and producers for a lively panel and photo ops begin. 

* * *

 

The cast lingers backstage. Roy and a few of the female cast bombard Felicity with comments all center on Oliver Queen. "Felicity, how the hell did you get his attention like this?" one of the girls asks. 

"Seriously, I have no idea!"

"Are you gonna go to dinner with him?" Roy asks, smirking his usual over-confident smirk. "You definitely played hard-to-get out there."

"I'd be stupid not to go," Felicity says, and everyone nods in agreement. "I just don't understand it. What makes me so special that he wants to be around me?"

"I think it's best not to question it and just enjoy it, girl!" one of the girls says with a giggle. "You're lucky." 

They all part ways. Felicity heads out of the building and into a town car, quickly kicking out of her heels, thinking of Oliver Queen's regular use of such luxuries and wondering whether or not he's doing the same. She imagines him sitting in the back seat, grinning at his remarkable flirtation. His smugness makes her wonder if he's used the backseat of a town car for other activities.  _No! Stop it, Smoak! Not appropriate!_ she scolds herself.

As if hearing her thoughts, her phone goes off with a new message.

**Oliver Queen: How about dinner tomorrow at 7pm in a secret location?**

_-4:02pm_

She types quickly with shaking fingers. 

**Me: That depends. Were the potential collaborations you spoke of professional or personal?**

_-4:02pm_

She waits for his answer, fidgeting with her dress in an attempt to keep the previous images out of her head. Finally he answers.

**Oliver Queen: Perhaps both. Depends on how the dinner goes.**

                                                                            _-4:06pm_

The possibilities begin to overwhelm Felicity as the car pulls up to her hotel and she enters the lobby, swinging her shoes back and forth like a child. She can't remember the last time she felt such intense euphoria, but it washes over her and keeps her grinning like a fool. She knows she should be wary. She knows she should be confused. But right now she can only think of how amazing a one-on-one dinner with Oliver Queen might be. She reaches the elevator and pushes the button then wait, rocking back on her heels. She allows the images she had kept safely away to flash across her mind in a cascade, but she keeps her skepticism up and strong. THe elevator doors open and she steps in. As it ascends, she types a message. Just as she reaches her floor, she hits send, unable to keep a giggle from escaping her lips. 

**Me: Then have your people send my people specifics.**

                                                                          _-4:11pm_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave comments, kudos and maybe even share this story! All support is appreciated!


	4. Lilies, Crashing and a Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity plans for her date with Oliver Queen while enjoying a free day at Comic-Con and Nerd HQ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your continued support of this story! It blows my mind how many of you are loving it! :D I hope you'll keep reading this! And don't forget to leave comments, kudos and share this with your fandom buddies!
> 
> This chapter has scenes/scenarios inspired by conversations I've had with DoubleDeez06 on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy the Comic-Con awesomeness in this chapter! :D For anyone who isn't familiar with Nerd HQ, it is an off-site Comic-Con experience run by Zachary Levi. He holds panels and photo ops (called Smiles for Smiles) that you pay for as donations to Operation Smile. You can find the panels on Youtube and Stephen Amell even did one last year! Check it out!

[Felicity's Comic-Con outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=155340667)

[Felicity's Date outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=155337172)

* * *

 

Felicity stares at her phone, waiting for the specifics she had requested hours ago. The TV flashes in the background, the Comic-Con coverage blurred as she scrolls through her textual exchanges with Oliver Queen, wondering if she had done something wrong.  _Did he think I actually meant to get in touch with_ my people _? I'm not_ that  _famous._ She eyes his name with a mixture of annoyance and obsession, wondering if this might be how every woman behaves when Oliver Queen shows them the slightest bit of interest.  _  
_

Finally she snaps out of the spell. "Get it together, Smoak! He's just a guy." She tosses the phone to the end of the bed, burying herself under the covers and retrieving her pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream from the side table. She dips the spoon into the green depths to find the ice cream melted, all of the chocolate chips congregated at the bottom of the carton. She shrugs and tilts the pint to her lips and takes a swig.  _It's basically a shake now._ Then as if on queue, she imagines Oliver watching her, amusement written in his eyes and spread across his lips in a cocky grin. She glances down at the carton in her hand and sighs, setting it aside.  _It wasn't that good anyways..._

She turns her attention to the TV, finding the entertainment news experts losing it over Oliver's date proposal at the show's panel. She grabs the remote and turns up the volume. "Yesterday the buzz was about Queen's interest in guest starring on Smoak's hit television show. Now we're all unable to contain ourselves over the question he asked her at the show's panel earlier today." It cuts to a clip from the panel, featuring Oliver in his perfectly tailored suit and that overly confident playboy grin. She watches his expression change when she gives her answer, the embarrassed flush flooding his cheeks.  _Now he understands how it must feel for me to be around him..._

As the show speculates over Oliver and Felicity's status as a couple and whether or not they'd be good for one another, there's a knock on her door, making her jump. She rushes to the door and glances out the peephole, finding room service.  _He did not do it again, did he...?_

She opens the door to find the server not pushing a tray, but carrying an arrangement of beautiful asiatic lilies. The pops of pink at the center of each petal brighten her evening instantly. "Who are these from?"

The server shrugs. "I was instructed to deliver them, not explain their origins. Sorry."

She smiles and reaches out for the flowers. "Thank you," she says, then hands him a few bucks for his trouble.

He bows his head, then holds up a hand. "There's a card, I'm sure that will explain everything!" he points to the center of the cluster of lilies and then leaves. Felicity shuts the door and leans in, inhaling the gorgeous fragrance. 

"Well, Mister Queen, it seems you know my favorite flower..." She sets the arrangement on the table and retrieves the card, gazing down at the floral pattern embossed in purples and pinks on the front. The texture is perfect and intricate, exactly what she expects from a card sent by Oliver Queen. She flips it open and once again marvels at his handwriting. Each curve of the letters. Each clear flourish of the pen. Most men wouldn't take the time to handwrite a note for someone, and none who do would have handwriting so perfect. Felicity smiles at the care he's taken in sending her this arrangement and card. 

_Our evening will begin at 6pm. A town car will arrive to escort you to our secret rendezvous an hour from here. I recommend dressing warmly; the night air can be quite chilly where we'll be and I want you to enjoy yourself. I'll see you then. -OQ_

She reads the note over and over, feeling giddy and not at all nervous. She rushes over to her luggage and shuffles through the many outfit options she brought with her. Having grown up in Las Vegas, she's never trusted herself to pack lightly with only clothes for expected weather. Even though it is summer in San Diego, she's packed for multiple weather scenarios. She digs out a black leather jacket, knowing for certain she'll wear it. She finds a pair of black jeans and pairs them with a pair of ankle boots. Last she scrounges up a comfortable sleeveless pink button up top.  _If he wants me to enjoy myself, he better expect comfy clothes... not just warm ones._

She hears her phone going off.  _Twitter notifications..._ She groans and plops onto the bed and grabs her phone, eyeing the multitude of tweets directed at her, all asking the same thing: **Will you be at Oliver Queen's Nerd HQ panel tomorrow??**

She's uncertain what they're talking about. She goes through and finds a link to the website selling tickets to his panel. All proceeds go to charity and all of the seats have already sold out, leaving the rest standing-room-only. She's shocked, but intrigued. She instantly pulls up Zachary Levi's twitter and private messages him with her number and interest in the panel.

She goes back to watching the television, now playing a re-run of some crime show she's never watched before. Halfway through the episode, her phone begins to ring and she's met with a number she's unfamiliar with on the caller I.D. She answers it. "Hello?"

"Hey! Felicity Smoak? This is Zach. Levi," the cheery voice on the other end announces. She laughs. 

"Hey! I'm sorry to bother you. I know you got a lot on your plate with Nerd HQ and all. But I had a question regarding Oliver Queen's panel tomorrow. I was wondering if-"

"If you could crash it?" he interrupts with a chuckle.

"How'd you know?"

"Well, he kinda sorta crashed yours, so why not return the favor, right?"

She nods and laughs again. "Exactly!" She stands up and begins pacing the room, her excitement building. "It that possible?"

"Most definitely. We had Matt Smith and Jenna Coleman crash Richard Madden's panel in twenty-thirteen, and that wasn't an issue. It actually made things so fun. What I'd like to ask is if you wanna join Queen for a Smiles for Smiles after the panel?"

"That'd be amazing! I'd love to!"

"Great!" Zachary Levi exclaims and then begins getting serious. "His panel starts at one, so I'd imagine you should crash it about halfway through. You'll need to be there before it starts, but keep yourself hidden. I'll have my wife keep you company while you stay away. That okay?"

"Definitely!"

* * *

Felicity arrives at Petco Park with a few minutes to spare, texting Zachary Levi to let him know she's enroute to the panel. He answers that he's sending his wife to her. Within moments Missy Peregrym is rushing over, chattering about how awesome it is that she's crashing the panel like Oliver did to her. Felicity is taken into a room that leads to the panel and finds it broadcast on a screen for volunteers to watch. 

Oliver Queen is dressed casually in a forest green henley, tight-fitting jeans and pair of gray oxfords. He's incredibly handsome, smiling at each fan reciting their questions and answering with an air of relaxed admiration. He cares for his fans just as much as she cares for hers, and she finds that trait not just likable, but ridiculously sexy.  _Keep thoughts of sexiness out of your mind, Smoak! Now is not the time._ _  
_

"Huh," Missy begins with a chuckle. "You guys match... are you sure he doesn't know you're coming?"

Felicity looks up at the screen and then down at her top and groans. Both of their shirts are forest green, perfectly matched in shade. She shakes her head. "No. He doesn't know I'm here. No one does." Then she retrieves her phone. "Well, one person does. My best friend. I warned her ahead of time to watch the livestream of the panel 'cause I'd be crashing it."

"Well, that's a crazy coincidence then."

A few minutes later, Missy tells her it's time to move in. They go over to the door and Missy motions for Felicity to stay hidden in the shadows while she opens the door and interrupts the flow of the panel. "Sorry!" Felicity hears Missy say. "But I think we have a visitor."

"What do you mean?" Oliver asks, confused.

"We may have a panel-crasher here today, buddy." Zachary says, his voice full of excitement.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah... I think this crasher should just come out now."

Felicity follows her cue and runs out. Once Oliver sees her, his smile widens and he stands up from his chair. The crowd is cheering and Zachary and Missy are laughing. Once she reaches Oliver, he opens his arms, drawing her into a hug that she didn't know she wanted until now. His cologne wafts over her and she sighs, loving the scent.  _Can he go anywhere without being perfect?_

"Well," Oliver whispers into her ear. "This is certainly a surprise."

A volunteer rearranges the stage to allow for two chairs to occupy the center, and Felicity collapses into the chair and folds her legs.  _Criss-cross-applesauce,_ she thinks out of childhood habit. "Hi, everyone!" she says into a mic another volunteer brings her. She glances sideways at Oliver and finds him eyeing her outfit with a curious smile.

"I guess I deserve this after crashing your panel, huh?" he asks with a chuckle. 

She nods. "Fair is fair." The crowd laughs. "But don't mind me, guys," she continues, looking out into the audience. "You're here for Mister Queen."

"Next question, please..." Zachary points to a girl at the very back waving a microphone. "You there!"

She stands up and waves. "Hi! My name is Candace, and my question is for Oliver."

"Hi Candace!" Oliver says with a wink. Felicity can't help but roll her eyes.  _Does the charm ever go away?_

 "Hi," the girl giggles, then quickly composes herself. "I was wondering if there's one literary, classic film or comic book character you'd love to play and why?"

Oliver chuckles as he bows his head and contemplates his answer. Felicity watches him, catching him glancing her way from time to time. Each tiny bit of eye contact sends waves through her, making her feel warm and -once again- giddy.  _Nope... the charm never goes away. Is he a warlock? He must be a warlock!_

"Well," Oliver begins, thoughtfully. "I'll answer all three for you." The audience cheers a bit, then falls silent to hear his answer. "For literary character, I think it would be amazing to play Gatsby. But, of course, Leo DiCaprio already stole that one. For classic film, I'd love to play Paul Varjak in a _Breakfast At Tiffany's_  remake. As for comics... hmm. I wish I could have played Magneto in _First Class_. But I think they picked the perfect actor for that role. So the only plausible character would be Varjak in this case."

Felicity smiles, remembering the first time she watched that film and how much she adored Varjak. "There needs to be a remake of that film," she says into her mic, bringing out a surge of agreement from the crowd. 

"I agree, wholeheartedly," Oliver says, eyeing her with a mixture of glee and flirtation. "I have to say, Felicity, that it seems we match today. How is that possible?"

She shrugs. "No idea."

"It must be meant to be."

Girls in the crowd giggle and sigh, his statement too romantic for them to handle.  _Imagine being me!_ Felicity thinks, feeling her heart picking up speed to hammer in her chest. She glances over at Zachary and he nods. "Next question, down front, Thor shirt."

"Hi! My name is Andrew. My question is for Oliver. Have you been contacted to appear on SNL?"

Oliver lets out a hearty laugh. "Oh, Andrew. I wish! That has been a dream. For some reason, no one has even remotely asked me about appearing or hosting. So I think all of you should start contacting the writers and producers. That's how tons of actors have been chosen to host! Get on it!"

"Next. You, with the first year Nerd HQ shirt!"

"Hi! My name is Emily. My question is actually for Felicity."

"Hi, Emily. You do know this is Oliver's panel, right?" Felicity teases. 

"Yeah, well, I have to ask this. What is it like having the attention of Oliver Queen?"

Felicity's smile fades and she falls completely still and silent. She senses the Oliver's amusement, feels it cascading off of him and drifting over to her. It irritates her and excites her all at once. She clears her throat and puts on her best smile. "Well, it's very weird. I'm just a plain girl. I have no idea why a mega star like him would find interest in me. But hey, I guess I should sit back and enjoy it, right?"

The audience lets out a cheer and Oliver chuckles. "You should definitely enjoy it," he mutters for only her to hear. 

"We have time for one more question, then these two lovely people will be doing Smiles for Smiles outside."

* * *

 Felicity looks in the mirror, eyeing her outfit of choice. Her jeans hug her curves and give length to her legs. Her button up top is loose and detailed with adorable Regency patterns that accentuate her figure. She slips into her boots and clicks the heels together, wondering if she's dreaming but knowing for certain that she should go with it.  _Enjoy how your luck has turned, Smoak._ She goes back to the mirror with a tube of pink lipstick and spreads it over her lips, blotting away small imperfections with a tissue. Once that is applied, she grabs her jacket and takes one last look; a final once-over. He had insisted on warmth and wearing what would ensure her enjoyment of the evening, and this outfit hits the nail on the head.  _Own it._

She glances back at the arrangement of lilies and smiles, a blush flooding her cheeks. When she had returned from Nerd HQ it had dawned on her that no one else had ever given her flowers.  _Well, except my dad on special occasion._

She walks over and inhales their lovely scent, closing her eyes. As she straightens and begins heading for the door, her phone goes off. She pulls it out of her cat face purse and reads the message. 

**Oliver Queen: The car has arrived. I'm not in it, but I will be with you on the drive to our rendezvous via text; I have to make sure everything is ready fro your arrival. How has the rest of your day been?**

                                                                                _-5:56pm_

She grabs a bottle of water, remembering the length of the car ride and then leaves her room, walking down the hall while staring at the message, feeling her nerves building. She reaches the elevator and pushes the buttons. The doors open and she jumps in, pressing the button to close the doors faster. As she descends, she types her own message and hits send. 

**Me: It's been great. I had no panels or junkets. It was heaven to do things for myself. I hope it was okay for me to crash your panel...**

_-5:59pm_

The doors slide open and she rushes to the entrance, finding the car waiting with polite driver waiting with the door open and a smile on his face. "Miss Smoak," he murmured as he helped her in and closed the door gently behind her. As she settled in and buckled her seatbelt, she received another message. 

**Oliver Queen: It was fantastic having you there. The fans loved it. And it was nice seeing you.**

  _-6:01pm_

Her cheeks warm with the words and she feels butterflies fluttering in her stomach, leading her to wonder why they are called butterflies and not flutterflies.  _That's ridiculous._ She types another message.

**Me: It was nice seeing you too. Though it makes this date less special, don't you think?**

                                                                             _-6:01pm_ _  
_

She leans her head back on the seat and closes her eyes, feeling the sway of the car as it pulls out onto the highway. She pulls out the pair of headphones she tucked into her purse, plugs them into her phone and turns on her favorite playlist, letting the music filter out the world. She mouths the lyrics and taps her fingers, letting everything else fall away. Then the music falls silent for a second as Oliver's message is received. She looks down and smiles. 

**Oliver Queen: You won't think that once you see the location.**

                                                                            _-6:06pm_

* * *

 

The car exits the highway and Felicity rolls the window down, letting the ocean breeze brush across her cheeks, sending her hair flying every which way. The car parks along a line of boats in a private marina. As the door opens and she leaves the shelter of the car, she sees which yacht she'll be boarding. A massive vessel compared to the others bobbing along the dock, with fairy lights dangling all about the decks, mimicking the candlelight that would be too dangerous to allow onboard. The name of the vessel is _Queen's Gambit_ _II_ , reminding her of the scandal that had rocked the Queen family and all of Starling City a few years ago. This boat's namesake had sunk off the coast of China under mysterious circumstances, leading many to believe it to be foul play. No evidence could be found as to the cause of the sinking, and the crew that had lost their lives were memorialized outside of Queen Consolidated headquarters. Felicity had always kept with the theory that someone had assumed the family had been onboard. 

She stands and feels the chilly breeze along her bare arms and is grateful for his instructions to dress warmly. She tugs on her jacket and then allows the driver to escort her up the gangway to the middlemost deck of the yacht. As soon as her boots hit the deck, Oliver is there, all smiles and a glass of champagne. "You made it here in record time," he exclaims as he hands her the glass and pulls her into an embrace. The thick fabric of his forest green pea coat is soft against her cheek and warm from his natural heat. She relishes contact for a few moments more before he steps away, letting her look up at him. "So, this is our secret rendezvous."

"You really like that word."

He nods. "I've never had reason to use it. This is the first time."

She giggles. "Well, I'm glad I could be your first." Her eyes widen at her words. She catches the glint of humor in his blue eyes and feels panicked. "Not that I'm your  _first_. I'm sure you've had many before me. Not that I'll be one in that many... Just that... Oh. Never mind."

Oliver bursts out into laughter, his face crinkling to show off the illusive laugh-lines she wished he'd show more. "Relax, Felicity. No need to feel embarrassed." He steps aside and allows her access to the stairway up to the top deck. She makes her way up, feeling him close behind her. 

 _Easy for you to say,_ she thinks as she pushes her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and sighs, taking a quick sip from the glass in her hand.  _You don't suffer from chronic word-vomit._

Behind her, Oliver lets out a low chuckle and she knows instantly that she had spoken her thoughts out loud. "Damn it."

Once she reaches the top, Oliver takes her arm and turns her to face him. "Felicity, seriously. Relax."

The intensity of his gaze sends her out of her nervousness and into a whole other emotional sensation entirely. She's longed for a man to look at her with those eyes, that expression, since she was a child. She had always assumed it was something only seen in movies, and she'd acted alongside such expressions time and time before. But to experience it for real, with no scripts asking for it or cameras waiting for it. Now that Oliver Queen is showcasing it in all of its glory, she's awed and confused and feeling it right down to her toes. He reaches out and touches her elbow, running his thumb in calming circles as he smiles.  _Oh yeah... the charm is definitely magical. He is a warlock. Without a doubt._

He leads her to the table at the center of the deck just as the boat begins moving away from the marina and out into the sunset mirroring waters, keeping his hand at her elbow. He pulls out her seat, letting his hand fall after just one more circle and a gentle squeeze. She smiles and takes a seat. He sits across from her, and she can feel him watching her as she hangs her purse on the back of the chair and then turns back. His eyes are alight with genuine excitement and interest, leading her stomach into freakish somersaults and her heart into a pounding drumbeat. "So," she says, looking at the table covered in twinkling lights and another arrangement of lilies. "What's for dinner?"

"Nothing too fancy," he admits, glancing over to a group of servers. They come over with covered trays. The first one is uncovered to reveal a loaded salad, lightly tossed with a vinaigrette. The next server uncovers his tray to reveal a basket of delicious-looking breadsticks. The last server lifts the lid off his tray to reveal a large pizza steaming with cheesy goodness.  

"Pizza... really classy, Mister Queen," she teases him, letting her eyes linger in an intimate gaze for just a moment before looking out over the water. 

"Well, I figured no one can go wrong with pizza."

She nods. "You're right. Though, if it were a bag full of Big Belly Burger, you'd have me weak at the knees."

"Noted," he says. "There's always next time."

She returns her eyes to his, amazed by his confidence.  _Not ten minutes into the date and he's already thinking about the next one._ She turned his words over in her head and realized she was already hoping for a second date.  _He's willing to feed me pizza, for crying out loud!_

Oliver waits for her to take a slice, but she doesn't make a move. "Please," he says, gesturing to the food. "Dig in." She nods with a grin and then takes a slice of pizza, discovering it is simply plain cheese. "I would have chosen something a bit more... substantial for the pizza, but I was unsure what toppings you liked."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "You know my favorite flowers but somehow have no clue what pizza toppings I prefer?"

"Lilies are your favorite flowers?" he asks, surprised.

She drops the slice of pizza onto her plate, her mouth falling open at his words. "You mean you didn't know?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all. It was a guess." He takes his own slice and then begins scooping up some salad and transferring it into a bowl. He holds out a hand for hers and she gives it to him. "My mother loves lilies, so it was really out of habit. Though I've always loved the smell of them, since I was a boy. Our home was always full of them." He gives her bowl back and she lets their fingers brush lightly, unable to deny her desire to feel his skin on hers. 

"I wish I could have had flowers in my house growing up," she says, pulling a breadstick out of the basket. "The Vegas desert is a little too unforgiving for lilies, I think."

He nods. "They are delicate," he says. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, then Oliver lifts his piece of pizza and takes a gigantic bite, melted cheese stretching away from the slice as he pulls it away from his face. He breaks it with his fingers, chuckling. Felicity follows his lead, taking a small bite of her breadstick, savoring the garlic butter slathered on the top. She chews for a few moments and then speaks around the bite. "Garden vegetable."

Oliver sets his fork down with a clump of lettuce skewered onto it. "What?"

She swallows the bite and then washes it down with a sip of champagne. "My preferred toppings..." she says, setting the glass back down with a smirk. "My preferred toppings are garden vegetable... And I can't deny myself the occasional meat lover's."

He nods. "Noted..." he mumbles, keeping his eyes locked with hers. "For next time."

"Of course."  _So confident. Warlocks get everything they want, clearly._

"My preferred toppings are considered a bit weird and gross to most people."

She raises her brows once more. "Oh really?" 

"Yeah. While I love meat lover's and Hawaiian is great, I love mushroom and broccoli."

She bursts out laughing in disbelief. "Really?" She shakes her head, unable to accept his answer. "I used to order that at one of the malls in Vegas when I was a kid! I could never find it anywhere but that one mall."

He stares at her, dumbfounded. "You like that kind too?"

"Not so much anymore, but it is really good regardless!"

"There's a pizza parlor in Starling City that serves an amazing one. Maybe you could visit sometime and I'll take you there."

They stare at one another with the words sitting between them. The boat rocks against the lull of the ocean and the sun dips below the horizon, shrouding the world in night. The twinkling lights above and around them cast heavenly shadows upon everything. To Felicity, Oliver is somehow more handsome in this light, his muscles and perfect bone structure defined divinely. She finally works up the courage to look away, letting her eyes fall down to her plate. She takes another bite of her breadstick, then stabs some salad. They remain silent for a little while longer before Oliver finally breaks it.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says, reaching across the table to take her free hand in his. 

She glances up through her lashes and blushes. "Thanks," she mumbles. She can't help the fluttering in her stomach, and she can't help the feelings soaring through her veins. She knows she would go to Starling City in a heartbeat if he asked. She simply didn't want to leave his company. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for leaving off in the middle of the date! But, trust me, you'll get some more awesome Olicity date goodness in the next chapter. I hope this turned out the way I wanted it to. Please leave some comments! And don't hesitate to leave some ideas or suggestions for future chapters! <3


	5. Chats, Chocolate and Kiss-Worthy Fog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still so amazed at the tremendous amount of support I've been getting for this story! I'm so thrilled everyone loves it so much! :D It warms my heart. Seriously. Thank you for reading it! 
> 
> This chapter continues the date, and I know you've all been waiting impatiently for it! So, I won't keep you away from it any longer! Enjoy!

"Are you sure you don't want more?" Oliver asks, gesturing to the final few slices of pizza. 

Felicity shakes her head. "Oh no," she says, trying not to pat her tummy to show how stuffed she is. "I've had my fill."

Oliver signals for the servers to take the food away, then turns his attention back to her. She's mesmerized by his attentiveness, always finding his eyes meeting hers no matter what is being said.  _Or not said..._ It is impossible to ignore how he says so many things with just his eyes. He doesn't need words.  _I guess that's what makes him such an amazing actor..._

She takes a sip of her champagne and then assaults him with a pointed gaze, hoping it is as intense as she thinks it is. His reaction is one of pure amusement, letting her know that her attempt has failed. She goes forward with her choice of conversation anyway. "So, what _really_ got you into acting?" she asks, winking awkwardly. "Because I know that story about not wanting to run your family's company and wanting to make out with hot actresses was complete B.S."

He chuckles and she can see he finds her assumption surprising.  _You might be able to charm me, but I can see lies a mile away._ "How'd you know I was lying?" he asks, eyebrow arched and a smirk etched onto his lips. She loves that face. The one that is all curiosity and interest and amused discomfort. So far it is her favorite look he has. 

"Please," she scoffs, taking another sip of the champagne. "Seriously. It came off as totally rehearsed. I know there's something else to it. Maybe the action star perks sounded nice, but what actually led you down that road?" She knows she's being forceful now, more so than she had planned, but she can tell he's not offended. His eyes are still bright and entertained, albeit slightly nervous at her question. "Sorry. I'm being totally rude. You don't have t-"

"No, you're right," he interrupts, waving off her apology. He looks away, out at the water churning and lapping against the yacht. When he returns his gaze to hers, she can see he is someplace else, back to a time difficult to discuss. She regrets bringing it up. "I'm sure you know I was a bit of a playboy in my teens and early twenties..."

She nods, recalling his face plastered upon every tabloid in the supermarkets.  _"A bit" seems like an understatement..._

"Well, some of my antics weren't very well-received by the shareholders at Queen Consolidated. My parents knew I wasn't going to change easily, so they cut me off."

Felicity's eyes widen at his words, having never thought of that as a possibility. "Really?"

"Yeah," he answers, taking his own sip of champagne before continuing. "I left home and spent some time with my friend Tommy. We partied and, after a while, that lifestyle didn't satisfy me. I understood why my parents had to do what they did. It was to teach me a lesson."

"But since you learned your lesson, why didn't you get your place in the family back?" 

She watches as his face grows slightly prideful. "I realized I needed to earn my own living - do something that would make a name for myself without the company at my back. Tommy pointed out that my lies to women seemed to prove I was good enough to be an actor. So, I got an agent, auditioned for some roles, and the rest is history." He holds up his hands, as if gesturing to the boat and the decorations as examples. 

"But isn't this your family's boat?" she asks.

He laughs. "It is for family use, but I bought it." When she nods and keeps her gaze locked with his. "I haven't relied on my family for years."

The knowledge of his independence hangs in the air, feeling heavy and strangely important. Felicity stands and walks over to the rail, looking out over the water scattered with reflections of the multitude of fairy lights strung about the boat.  _Does it matter if he relied on his parents?_ she asks herself. She knows the answer.  _If he relied on his parents, he wouldn't understand hard work or worry or anything of that sort. And, really, he wouldn't understand me._ And she knows very well that he understood her. She knows he can read her like a book, which scares her slightly. People can read her babbles but never her silences. He can read both. 

Suddenly his arm wraps around her waist, spinning her around and pulling her closer to him. And then they are dancing, light instrumental music hitting her ears and soothing her nervousness. She glances up to find him watching her, his blue eyes glowing with the twinkling lights. She feels like she's drowning in them.

He clears his throat and grins playfully. "I had a conversation with your agent today."

She raises an eyebrow, confusion setting in. But she takes a breath and responds just as playfully. "Oh yeah? What about?"

"Let's just say there's a script floating around to dozens of sought-after actresses right now for a movie that I'm part of," he explains, wagging his eyebrows in the most adorable way she's ever seen. "But I'd prefer acting alongside you."

She stares at him, open-mouthed with shock and amazement. "Uh, me? You want me to work on a movie with you?"

He nods excitedly. "Of course."

"But I have my show to work on and-"

He pulls her in closer and chuckles as he interrupts her. "That's why I spoke with your agent," he explains. "I told him the timeframe for the movie and he found the perfect way to fit it into your schedule. If you're interested, of course."

 _How can I not be interested!? It is a film with_ the  _Oliver Queen..._ She tries to hide her excitement, keeping the fangirl inside from bursting forth and flailing and freaking out. She takes another deep breath and smiles. "What's the movie about?" she asks, feigning mild interest to mask her intense desire to accept the offer without any information.

"I'd rather you read the script for yourself like I did. It is an amazing story, and I really think the female lead role would be perfect for you," he says, tracing circles along her spine. The touch is so intimate and soothing, sending shivers throughout her body. 

"You want me as the female lead?"

"What else would you expect?" he asks, confused. "You're remarkable, Felicity. You know how to really get in touch with your character, and I love that." They stare at one another for a few moments. She doesn't hear the music anymore, only his breathing and her heart pounding in her chest. He is so close and his lips are hovering near her forehead. She leans in, desperate to make contact, and he obliges. He kisses her forehead, his lips warm and gentle against her skin. When he pulls back, she looks up to find him grinning like a child who just won a prize. "Just promise me you'll read the script? It will be waiting for you when you get back tonight."

She laughs then, unable to stop it. When he eyes her questioningly, she stops for a moment to gasp out: "So you're saying we aren't staying on this boat or going back to your place?" 

As soon as the words leave her mouth she regrets them. Hiding her face in her hands, she buries her face in his chest, unable to leave his arms but scared to look at his face or into his eyes. _Oh. My. God._ But he rubs her back and laughs. A hearty laugh. An honest laugh. She takes a slight step back and peeks out from her hands to see him smiling, his eyes bright with the same amusement he has kept through the whole conversation. Before she can explain herself, he is waving off her words. "Contrary to my old reputation, I prefer to not have sex on a first date."

She nods and lets her hands fall, relaxing just a bit. "I can't believe I said that."

"Don't worry about it," he murmurs, pulling her close again and starting another dance. He brushes his fingers through her hair with one hand while twining the fingers of the other with hers. She glances at their hands and grins, liking the sight. 

She doesn't know how long they dance like that, but soon the servers return with dessert. They uncover their individual trays to reveal an assortment of chocolate confections: chocolate covered strawberries, chocolate smothered cheesecake, chocolate gelato and two chocolate martinis. She can't help but giggle. "You really know the way to a girl's heart, don't you?"

"I figured I'd give you options and then you can take the others back with you. Late night snacks?" he winks as he takes both martini glasses, handing her one. She sips the drink and almost moans with delight. It is the definition of chocolate and alcohol perfection, warming her throat and giving her a sugar high. He watches her as she eyes the desserts, waiting for her to choose. She just looks at the choices, amazed by it all.  _I'll wait until he picks one._ And as if he knows, she watches as he grabs a strawberry and brings it to her lips. She takes a bite, unable to keep it from looking seductive.  _Or maybe I look totally ridiculous... oh god._ But when she looks into his eyes, she sees the color darkening and she can tell he's regretting the decision to let her go back to her hotel. 

They continue dining on the chocolate until all that's left is the gelato, which has softened, the bottom of the glass bowls a rich pool. The servers take the trays away, leaving them alone once more. They sit in silence and Felicity fears her babbling will ruin the moment. She keeps her lips tightly closed, unwilling to risk anything. But finally, Oliver clears his throat and stands, offering her a hand. She takes it, loving the sensation of his skin on hers. 

He leads her to the front of the yacht and she can see the San Diego skyline in the distance, signaling the looming end of the date. She knows then that she doesn't want to leave. She wants to stay with him.  _Smoak, pull it together. You have a script to read!_

As she argues with herself, Oliver converses with the captain about the amount of time left until they make it to their destination. Felicity leaves, heading back toward the stern, unwilling to know how much longer she has with him. Once she reaches the table, a thick fog begins to cover the boat, enveloping her in blinding moisture. She can't see her hand in front of her face, let alone the table or anything else.  _Oh no..._ "Oliver?" she shouts, her heart threatening to break out of her chest. "Oliver?"

"I'm here," he whispers from right behind her. He takes her hand and spins her around to face him, but she can't see. But she forces herself close, and he responds, somehow pulling her in, wrapping his arms around her. And then his lips are on hers and they're kissing. She has no time to panic and no time to prepare, and it is magical. Her knees go weak and it doesn't matter because he is holding her up, supporting her. 

Their lips move in perfect sync together, their tongues exploring tentatively. She reaches up and cups his face in her hands, his stubble tickling her palms in the best way possible. She can feel everything, all electricity and chemistry and she's lost. Lost in his embrace and kiss. She feels it everywhere, all the way down to her toes. 

When they part, the fog is gone and she can see his eyes boring into her, dark and sultry. They lure her in, causing her to kiss him again and again.  _Yep. He's most definitely a warlock!_

* * *

 

They leave the marina and walk through the streets of downtown San Diego toward her hotel, hand-in-hand. They chat about meaningless things, their laughter carrying off the sidewalk beneath their feet. They reach the front, revolving doors of her hotel and she frowns. The end of the date is so close and she doesn't want it to stop. She wants him to come in. She wants his lips on hers. She wants other things to happen. Sexier things. But she can see he's being respectful, and somehow she loves that. "Can you walk me to my door?" she asks, knowing how silly the question sounds. 

"Of course," he answers, grinning like a fool. They enter the hotel and head for the elevator, ignoring the stares and mumbled interest from the night staff. Oliver presses the button and all too quickly the elevator doors open and they are stepping in. Once they close once more and he presses the button for her floor, he moves in. He grasps her face and pulls her forward, into him. Their lips meet and, once again, she feels the fire and sparks everywhere. He loses his balance and soon they are pressed against the elevator wall. She glances sideways and clicks the button to stop the elevator. She knows it will signal the staff. She knows there are cameras watching them. But she doesn't care. She wants the moment to last a little longer. 

His hands trail down her cheeks and to her neck, then even farther until they are at her waist and his fingers are toying with the hem of her shirt. She reaches into his jacket, burying her hands inside, relishing the warmth as he lets a hand slip beneath her shirt, drawing spirals on the skin at her waist. Their tongues dance and explore, causing her to pull him closer. He growls into her mouth and she sighs.  _Am I up for elevator sex?_ Before she can answer her own question, the elevator begins moving once more and he backs away, keeping his eyes on her as he leans against the opposite wall. He smiles and she smiles back, blushing slightly. 

The doors open and he takes her hand, leading her to her room. Once they arrive at her threshold, she digs her key out of her purse and unlocks the door, hesitating before entering the room. She turns around, her lips sliding into a frown. 

"I hope you enjoyed the date," he says, pressing a light kiss onto her forehead. "And I really hope you enjoy the script."

She nods, reaching out to caress his cheek. He leans into her touch. "I'm sure I will."

"Good night, Felicity Smoak," he says with a wink. And then he's walking away and she's closing the door, longing for his lips to brush hers again. 

Once the door clicks shut and she turns the lock, Felicity runs into the room and jumps onto the bed, giggling like a madwoman. On her bedside table is the script, mysterious and inviting. But she stays away from it, knowing she needs to get into a more serious mindset to begin reading. She turns onto her back and digs her phone out of her purse. She looks at the lockscreen to find a message from Caitlin. 

**Caitlin: HOW WAS THE DATE!? GIVE ME ALL OF THE DETAILS!**

_-10:47pm_

Felicity types a quick response, then tosses her phone aside. 

**Me: Too perfect for words. And I now have a script to read.**

                                                                    _-11:53pm_

She changes into her pajamas and removes her makeup, then brushes her teeth. She grabs a bottle of water out of the hotel room fridge and then snuggles into bed, fluffing the multiple pillows. Once she's comfortable, she grabs the script and eyes the title excitedly. 

_From Darkness Into Light_

With a deep breath, she opens it and begins reading, instantly sucked in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Don't forget to leave comments and kudos. And don't hesitate to share this story with your fandom buddies. The more the merrier! :D


	6. Scripts, Bowling & A Shared Muffin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my lovely peeps! I'm so sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Life has been kicking my ass lately and every time I promised to get an update out, I just lost all inspiration/motivation to write. But this chapter is here! The script is here. Felicity and Oliver adorableness is here! Enjoy! Don't forget to leave comments! I thrive on your feedback and support!

[Felicity's Pajamas](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=161812004)

[Felicity's Outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=162176663)

 

Felicity marvels at the brilliance of the script. The action. The intrigue. The romance. The emotion so evident in the pages, pouring out and rooting deeply in her heart. Everything jumps out at her and sends her reeling. She imagines herself in the scenes, portraying a woman who starts out violated and alone and then becomes the strongest character in the story. She imagines Oliver portraying the male lead, a leader in a foreign mob who lets his morals get in the way of his duty when he meets her.

It doesn’t take her long to read the script through once, and by the end she is bawling, her hands shaking and nose running and heart thudding against her chest. She’s never felt so strongly about a story before, and yet she’s sobbing amongst the plush blankets and pillows of her hotel room bed, hoping for some form of comfort. _He could have warned me it was gonna be devastating._

Without hesitation, she pulls out her phone, ignoring the late hour and how she’ll most likely wake him up. She types the message quickly, trying to blink away the onrush of tears that keeps coming.

******Me: You could have at least warned me!**

_-2:23am_

She picks up the script once more and grabs a red pen and starts underlining dialogue and cues and directions, all of them inciting a desperate need to be part of the production. To portray Ana. For Oliver to portray Peter. For them to fall away as the characters take control in each scene.

As she finishes underlining one of the most intense lines of dialogue in the script, his message comes through.

**Oliver Queen: It’s amazing, right?**

_-2:27am_

She smiles at his clear love for the story. She types her message and sends it, then takes her bottle of water and gulps down nearly half.

**Me: I didn’t expect to cry.**

_-2:28am_

She caps the bottle just as his response comes through.

**Oliver Queen: If it makes you feel any better, the ending made me cry too.**

_-2:29am_

**Me: Uber-masculine Oliver Queen cried while reading a script? I’m shocked.**

_-2:29am_

She jumps out of bed and stretches, her legs stiff from staying in one position reading for so long. She goes to the bathroom, then washes her hands before running back to the bed, finding Oliver’s latest text completely ignoring her teasing.

**Oliver Queen: So are you in?**

_-2:31am_

She eyes the message, her heart starting to pound. Something about his intensity for the project and his adamance about her being part of it touches a part of her anxiety. _Pull it together, Smoak. Seriously. You’re a professional!_ But her heart isn’t listening to her head. She types her message with trembling thumbs.

**Me: I’m gonna tell me agent yes in the morning. :)**

_-2:38am_

She collapses back onto her pillows and covers her face with her hands, the excitement and anxiety of her decision sinking in. Dozens of thoughts swirl through her head, but one keeps bombarding her, making her wonder what he’s thinking.

“He’s gonna think I want this part so I can be in all those love scenes with him,” she blurts out, feeling her cheeks burning with a horrific blush as she thinks about their kiss. She recalls his assurance that they would not have sex on the first date, that he was much more respectful than that. But his lips told a different story. His lips said that he would easily have broken that rule, right there in that elevator. “Can I film a love scene with him without it getting out of hand?” she asks herself, shaking her head. “Well, too late to back out now. I already told him yes.”

As she buries herself under the covers and turns out the lights, her phone goes off again. She checks the message and smiles, then turns onto her side and attempts to fall asleep with his words lingering behind her eyelids.

**Oliver Queen: You have no idea how happy this makes me.**

_-2:42am_

* * *

 

She wakes up feeling groggy and regrets binge-reading the script so late. She has a busy day ahead of her and she hasn’t even picked out her outfit. She slowly leaves the bed, her eyes sliding over the script and she feels that anxiety again, reminding her of the date and his words and everything else that has happened over the last few days. She grabs her phone and dials her agent’s number. He answers on the first ring.

“I’m assuming you’ve read the script then?” he asks, his voice full of excitement.

“I have, Cisco,” she answers, her voice still scratchy and hoarse from sleep. She clears her throat as Cisco chuckles.

“And…?”

“And I have to take it.”

“I knew you’d say yes,” he exclaims. “And it is clear from your panels together that you and Oliver Queen have some major chemistry. I’m really feeling it.”

She keeps her lips tight and sealed, knowing he can’t know they went on a date.

“And with the photos that have been going around of the two of you, it is clear you think you have chemistry too.”

Her mouth drops open. “Photos? What photos?”

“You don’t know?”

“Cisco, please,” she groans. “I just woke up. What photos?”

“Photos of the two of you holding hands in the lobby of your hotel and then getting into the elevator. It’s clear nothing happened, since he was back in the lobby about ten minutes later, but the internet is losing its shit right now over it.”

She closes her eyes and sees Oliver’s face and his lips, so perfect and soft and tasty. She shakes her head. _Snap out of it!_

“The internet is already trying to come up with a name for the two of you. I personally think you should be called Foliver.”

She laughs, unable to help it. “Seriously, Cisco, you need to get better with the name creations.” She listens to him ramble on about the script and all the logistics as she attempts to wake up. Finally she finds a way to interrupt. “I have a lot to do today, Cisco. I gotta go.”

“Tell Chris Hardwick I say _hi_!”

She nods, then rolls her eyes. _He can’t see you._ “Will do,” she says, then hangs up. She tosses the phone onto the bed and then rushes to her clothes, digging through the multitude of options until she finds the perfect pairing: mint green jeans and a black and white patterned top. She already knows the sandals she wants to pair with them. Then she grabs one of her favorite watches, which she wore to the Nerd HQ panel and then she searches for a necklace. As she rummages through her collection, one keeps popping out at her, demanding to be chosen.

She eyes the little handmade creation, one of her favorite Etsy buys and nods. “That is… accurate.” She grabs it and then goes to change. When she hangs it around her neck, she knows it all works perfectly. She rubs the pendant, reciting the words like a mantra. “I can’t even.”

* * *

 

She can’t believe she’s in the private bowling alley to film Chris Hardwick’s _All-Star Celebrity Bowling_. She’s standing beside Roy and the producer of her show, greeting all of Team Nerdist. She’s met Chris Hardwick numerous times at numerous cons, but she can’t believe she’s standing in front of Felicia Day, Jonah Ray and Wil Wheaton. They are all joking, as if they’ve been friends for years. _Duh… because they_ have _been friends for years._ She looks down at her hands to find them trembling.

Felicia smiles and pats her on the shoulder, noticing her nervousness. “Don’t worry about anything. Just be yourself.”

Felicity laughs. “That’d be easier if there were someone on your team that sucks at bowling as much as I do. What happened to Matt Mira?”

Everyone joins in her laughter and Chris Hardwick grins. “There’s only so much fail this team can handle. And we’ve hit the max.”

Roy looks around, brows raised in confusion. “What happened to Iris?”

Felicity nods. “Yeah, I thought she was gonna be on our team?”

Their producer shakes his head. “Well, she decided she didn’t want to deal with bowling. She said that every time she goes bowling, it reminds her of Eddie.”

Felicity frowns. Iris had been in such a dark place throughout filming of season two. Her fiancé had passed away at the beginning of the filming schedule. She never spoke about how he died, but all she ever let slip was that he was a hero. Her hero. But she always talked about how one of their first dates had been cosmic bowling and how she was always so much better than him, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed it because she did. “Well, if Iris isn’t part of the team, who is?”

Their producer grins like a fool. “Well… It will be somewhat of a shock.”

“It’s me.”

The voice behind her sends waves of excitement, anxiety and complete happiness roiling through her veins, tingling into her toes. She turns to see Oliver and he winks, that wink she fears might kill her if he continues to use it with such ease and abandon.

“How do you keep worming your way into all of my appearances?” she asks, fidgeting with the zippers on her pants’ pockets.

“If I recall,” Oliver begins, smirking like he owns the world. _He might as well…_ “You crashed _my_ Nerd HQ conversation.”

“What about my panel?” She glances over at Roy and he nods, clearly enjoying the back and forth banter and flirtation as much as Team Nerdist. Chris Hardwick is smiling and Wil Wheaton is trying not to laugh. Felicia Day is casting glances between her and Oliver while Jonah Ray just rolls his eyes.

Oliver chuckles. “I simply attended as part of the audience and decided to ask a question. Nothing wrong with that, as far as I’m concerned.”

She nods slightly, hating to admit that she has no comebacks or further accusations. Everyone stands in silence for a few moments until Wil Wheaton clears his throat. “Let’s get this over with. Just know that Team Nerdist is totally gonna kick your team’s ass!”

* * *

 

In a shocking turn of events, Team Nerdist loses by two points, sending Chris Hardwick into an uproar and Wil Wheaton into uncharacteristic humbleness. The single game they had played took three hours to end thanks to constant filming necessities; interviews and jokes being almost as important as the game itself. And the whole time, Oliver remained close to Felicity’s side, rooting her on and antagonizing Wil Wheaton with a familiarity that Felicity wished she had.

As they leave, Chris Hardwick pulls Felicity aside with a bright grin on his face. “I think this episode will be the best yet. You guys clearly need to be on screen together more often,” he whispers, wagging his eyebrows like a fool.

She chuckles. “Well, I can say that my agent is definitely working on that.”

“Awesome. Would you be willing to join us on the podcast soon?”

She’s always wanted to be on the Nerdist Podcast, and Chris Hardwick always says how much he wants her on, but nothing ever comes of the comments. She nods. “Of course! You know I want to!”

“We’ll be in touch!”

As Felicity leaves the bowling alley, she rolls her eyes. _Which basically means ‘see you at the next con!’_

The bright San Diego afternoon greets her and she waits for her lenses to transition with the sunlight. Once they shield her eyes, she begins walking along, admiring the shops and cafes in this part of downtown.

“Felicity, wait!”

She turns to see Oliver chasing after her, his green and purple button up shirt fanning out with his pace, showing off his muscles beneath the tightness of his white v-neck. She forces herself to look up to his smiling face. “What’s up?” she asks as he comes to a stop in front of her.

“Would you like to get some coffee and discuss the script?”

The question doesn’t surprise her. After a few moments of feigned contemplation, she nods. “Sure.”

“Fantastic!” Oliver exclaims, and she can’t help but laugh. His enthusiasm for the project is so palpable that she can’t deny her own growing excitement.

They walk for a while, hand-in-hand, enjoying the warm summer afternoon and one another’s company. She tries not to think too much, for fear of blurting out her inner thoughts, but she fails miserably. Innuendos flood out, assaulting the easy way they interact and making everything awkward. But Oliver clearly doesn’t mind.

“I find it adorable, actually,” he admits after she speaks thoughts involuntarily for the hundredth time. “It makes things interesting.”

“And incredibly awkward,” she says, her cheeks getting warm. She wishes she could blame the summer heat but she’s used to high temperatures.

They turn into a small coffee shop, the A/C unit blasting them with frigid air the moment the doors open. Oliver insists on ordering for them, admitting that there’s only one thing worth ordering and she has to try it. When he orders, she chuckles at his request for plain cups of coffee and chocolate chip muffins. _Safest options, clearly._ “You could have asked me what I like, you know,” she teases, nudging him playfully as they walk to a table in the corner, away from the windows.

“I could have, but I want our conversation to be the most important part of this date, not the food or drinks.”

“This is a date?”

“Well… I mean, I figured it could double as a work meeting and a date.” He leaned forward, over the table, his eyes closing as his lips near hers. She follows, crossing the small distance to allow their mouths to meet. The contact sends her body reeling. She wants so much more but nothing else all at once. She wants his hands all over her and yet she wants his hands simply to trace the line of her jaw… only her jaw. Everything is so jumbled.

When they break apart, it is only for the barista to bring their order. Two coffees. One chocolate chip muffin. “Oh… So we’re sharing this muffin?”

He grins. “Is that a problem?” he asks as he pulls a small chunk apart and holds it to her lips. She lets him drop it into her mouth, his thumb grazing her bottom lip lightly, sending tingles up and down her spine.

“No,” she murmurs once she swallows the bite. “Not a problem.”

They drink their coffee and nibble on bits of muffin, silence resting between them. They glance up at one another on occasion, each moment of eye contact speaking volumes. She’s lost all of her nervousness and she feels completely normal, as if his star status doesn’t exist and they are just ordinary human beings enjoying a light snack.

“Don’t you have appearances to make at Comic-Con?” she finally asks, reaching out and taking his hand.

He rubs his thumb over her hand and smiles. “Not until later,” he says. “I wanted to talk to you about the script. How did you like it, really?”

She takes a deep breath and then lets the words spill out. “It was amazing. I don’t remember the last time I read anything that made me feel so much. I’m a huge bookworm and I haven’t read a book, even, that made me feel the emotions I felt while reading that script.” She catches her breath and continues. “I don’t wanna seem crazy or anything, but I really have to play that part. I have to play Ana.”

His smile widens at this proclamation and Felicity’s heart leaps. _How can one smile from one man make me feel like this?_

“Felicity,” he says, and her tummy flutters at the sound of her name on his lips. “There’s no one else I want to play Ana except you. The writers and director know this.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Oh yes. I was very adamant about this. I read the script on the plane here and I loved it. Then I sat next to you at that panel and, I don’t know. I just knew you had to be Ana. I called the director right away and told him. He seemed a little skeptical, but I had him send me a copy of the script to give to you.”

“It happened that fast?”

He laughs. “Like I said, I don’t know. It just seemed right.” He watches her for a few minutes and then squeezes her hand. “What was your favorite scene?”

Her eyes widen at the question. She turns it over in her head, pairing it with all the scenes she felt so strongly about. She tosses aside the love scenes, knowing that mentioning those would make her seem creepy and needy and possessive. _Maybe he likes that…?_ She frowns slightly and glances up at him, checking to be sure she hadn’t said anything out loud. He shows no emotions besides interest in her looming answer. She lets the rest of the scenes rush through, scanning each one and pulling out lines that show everything in just a few words. Finally, the scenes hit her and she smiles.

“I have two favorites,” she begins, looking into his eyes to find them bright with anticipation. “The first would be the moment Peter decides to save Ana. He sees her lying in that shipping crate, half-naked and starving, the bruises all over her body. Her begging him and him deciding to forfeit everything he’s built to save her. So powerful. And him carrying her out while also kicking major mob ass… so sexy.”

As she takes a breath, Oliver chuckles and nods. “That’s the moment the script had me hooked.”

She moves on. “My absolute favorite scene, though, would have to be when Ana is tending to Peter’s wounds. He’s just saved her life for the umpteenth time and he’s critically injured and delirious and speaking total nonsense. She talks him through it and keeps him alive. Then they kiss for the first time. Initiated by her. That’s the moment they realize they are in love and it is so beautiful.”

He stares at her, his mouth slightly ajar in surprise. He shakes his head a little and then lets out a breathy chuckle. “That’s… that’s the scene that came to mind when we were at that panel together.”

Felicity looks up, her turn to feel surprised. “What?”

“That’s the scene that I imagined when we were sitting together at that panel. It’s probably one of the most beautiful scenes I’ve ever read in a script.”

Silences falls between them, both clearly imagining themselves in the roles. After a few moments, Oliver looks at his watch and frowns. “We should probably get going.”

“Stardom beckons?” she asks, sadly. Without any hesitation, she would stay in this coffee shop with Oliver for an eternity, talking scripts and life and anything else worth talking about. But the world they live in moves too fast, catapulted by interviews and publicity and filming schedules so arduous that some people lose their minds in the process. She looks into Oliver’s eyes to see all of this mirrored there in those gorgeous blue depths.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Let me know!
> 
> If you don't know already, you can find me on tumblr!  
> arrow-through-my-writers-block.tumblr.com


	7. Evasion, Interruptions & An Unwanted Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait between chapters. I'm pretty sure I say that with every new update. But truly, I am sorry. I know how much y'all are loving this story -I love writing it- and it sucks when work and life get in the way and destroy my Starstruck muse (well... any of my fic muses!). 
> 
> But here's the new chapter! It is kind of a jumble of randomness. But a lot of it is setting up for things I have planned for the future. So, if you feel like something is weird, please don't freak. I have plans. It is all going somewhere. :D Enjoy this chapter and don't forget to comment! I thrive on your thoughts, feedback and critique!

[Felicity's Comic-Con outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=162176663)

[Felicity's party outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=163889255)

 

As they near the convention center, they part ways. Felicity smiles as Oliver leans in to plant a gentle kiss onto her cheek and then watches him leave, his posture and stride exuding confidence and something else she can’t quite put her finger on. She waits for a few minutes and then makes her way inside and toward the room designated for press interviews. _I just wanna go to the exhibit hall…_ she complains inwardly as a reporter begins the usual round of questioning.

“What can we look forward to for season three?”

Felicity grins, attempting to showcase enthusiasm she isn’t completely feeling. “Well, I can promise some more sinister villains and some major character development for my character. It isn’t easy fighting crime, and she is definitely going to feel the stress of it all.”

The reporter nods and then glances at her notes. She looks up with a bright glint in her eye. “So, Oliver Queen seems to be _very_ interested in making an appearance on your show. Do you think it’ll actually happen?”

Felicity sighs. _How many times must I answer this question…?_ “Oliver Queen is very interested in making a cameo, but the producers haven’t set anything in stone or figured out the logistics of it. If it is possible, it will definitely happen. That’s all I can say.”

The reporter frowns but moves on, tackling more specific questions about the show and its success. Eventually Roy appears, taking on some of the question load.

“Do you think your character will ever make it out of the friendzone?” the reporter teases Roy. He responds with a chuckle and a mischievous wink to Felicity. She giggles.

“Well, if Oliver Queen makes an appearance on the show in any capacity, I think my character’s chances are slim to none.”

“Oh please,” Felicity says, slapping Roy playfully on the arm. “Our characters are meant to be.”

The reporter pounces. “Speaking of _meant to be_ , can you comment on the photos that surfaced of you and Oliver Queen in the lobby of your hotel?”

Felicity’s smile fades and she stares at the reporter, finding her grin completely fake, plastered on to appear friendly and inviting in order to garner the best responses. Felicity wants to punch the expression right off her face, knowing the caked on make-up would smudge and she might see the real woman beneath. She clenches her fists behind her back and retrieves the lost smile, plastering it on in the same fashion as the reporter, and hating every second.

“He was walking me to my door after dinner,” she responds as pleasantly as possible.

Her answer isn’t enough for the reporter. “You were holding hands.”

Felicity’s balled fists tighten, her nails sinking into her palms. She loosens them slightly at Roy’s cautionary clearing of the throat. _Don’t act like a bitch. Be honest, but say as little as possible. No word vomit!_ “Yes, we were,” she answers. “It was a date. A wonderful date discussing possible collaborations and getting to know one another.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

Felicity shakes her head, finally drawing a line in the stardom sand. “No, I’d much prefer to discuss the show. That’s why I’m here, after all. All I’ll say is that Oliver Queen is a wonderful man and very talented, and I hope to work with him in the future.”

 

* * *

 

After an hour and a half, Felicity leaves the press room feeling bogged down. So many questions and so many accusations, all of them surrounding her relationship to Oliver Queen. It all feels overwhelming, but somehow, she feels protective. She knows they will always be in the spotlight, even when they aren’t looking to be, and she understands it… accepts it. But she’s protective of their time together, the moments they’ve shared. _Only reveal as much as you’re willing to._ She never thought she would have to evade questions or skirt around issues. But the reporter today reminded her of the frustrating truth: life in the spotlight isn’t easy, and no matter how hard you try, you’ll always have your privacy invaded.

Interacting with Oliver Queen has taken her out of the lowly television bubble she has resided in and thrust her into the high profile world he lives in. And while it is scary and unfamiliar and a total burden, she’s not afraid to move forward. She wants to enjoy her time with Oliver, regardless of the potential paparazzos lurking in the shadows to snap photos. She wants to get to know him better. And, most of all, she wants to work on that film. With him.

She never put much stock in moving forward in her career. She loves her show and loves her fellow cast members. But the script is still speaking to her, running through her mind at every free interval and sinking into her bones. She wants the role. She wants that challenge. She wants that chance.

She fights her way through the crowds in the exhibit hall, stopping every so often to sign autographs and take photos. She passes fully costumed patrons and smiles. _I wonder if any of them are celebrities trying to hide in plain sight._

She finds a booth that looks promising. A gaming booth with multiple games to try out. She finds one. A dungeon crawler on steroids. One of the hardest games on the market today. She’s wanted to try it for months but hasn’t had the time. She picks up one of the controllers and begins building a character, picking weapons and hair color and body type, ignoring the people gathering around to watch her play.

The game begins and she’s instantly fighting demons and monsters, unsure of the controls or purpose of randomly discovered items. But she doesn’t care. She is enthralled, the outside world gone as she makes her way through the decrepit landscapes, hacking away at enemies as they jump out from the shadows. _Kind of like the paparazzi…_ she thinks sarcastically.

She batters the enemies, driving them away and slaying each one with relative ease. She wonders why so many people complain about the difficulty of the game. It seems rather simple to her. Until she reaches the first boss. The people watching her begin to fidget and she feels her palms beginning to sweat as she dodges the gigantic monster, trying her best to remain at full health. She attacks, her level one abilities so far below the abilities of her opponent.

Her eyes are glued to the screen, but she can see the nervous people watching in her periphery. She almost loses all of her health with one swipe of the monster’s talons and she quickly ignores those around her, narrowing her gaze -her world- to herself and the screen. She uses a health potion and restores the bar to full, dodging as it fills. Her fingers dance over the controller, reminding her of the years she spent in college learning coding and software security. She had been praised for her fast keyboard skills; all of her professors marvelled at her speed, all proclaiming her the most advanced of all their students. In gaming, speed and precision was key. _Perhaps I should have become a professional gamer…_

The boss still has half its health when a pair of hands tickle her sides, causing her to shriek and drop the controller. She glances to the side to see Oliver’s face close to hers, grinning like a child, his sneak attack successful. Felicity looks back at the screen to find her character collapsing onto the ground as the health bar depletes. The scene fades to black and red words replace it: You Died. She frowns, then slaps Oliver on the arm. “Damn it, Oliver!”

Around them people are laughing and taking photos of them. She ignores them and focuses her attention on the man before her. The man she never imagined meeting. The man she certainly never imagined kissing. For a moment, her eyes drift down to his smiling mouth, so kissable. _This is not the time, Smoak! He made you die!_

“You made me die, Oliver.”

He chuckles. “You look pretty alive to me.” The crowd around them laughs, the photos and videos still capturing their interaction.

“You made me die _in-game_ ,” she clarifies, pointing to the proclamation on the screen. Oliver follows her gesture and chuckles some more. “This is not funny. I was doing so well. I hadn’t died once!”

His eyes are full of amusement and something else Felicity can’t quite put into words. It is as if he feels slightly guilty for ruining her run. He allows his lips to slump into a frown, almost a pout, and then reaches out for her hand. For a moment she denies him, but the desire to feel his warmth overwhelms her and she gives in. As soon as her hand is engulfed in his, her annoyance is gone. _Yep… he is most definitely, one hundred percent, a warlock! Too much charm to be just your average human._

They leave the booth and the crowd, cutting out of the exhibit hall and into a closed hallway. It is designated for event staff and, apparently, A-List celebrities. They walk a few paces and then he stops, tugging her back as she tries to continue on. The force of his pull slams her into his chest and she is immediately aware of the electricity sparking between them. She looks up to see his lips parted and she doesn’t hesitate.

Within moments they are kissing and Oliver is pushing her up against the wall. The hallway is abandoned, and Felicity wonders if he paid the staff off, allowing for a secluded spot to sneak to. _Another rendezvous…_ she thinks with a jolt of excitement.

Like in the elevator, Oliver plays with the hem of her shirt, every so often tracing a pattern on her skin. The slight contact sends shivers up and down her spine and drives her crazy. She can’t keep her hands away. She lifts the bottom of his shirt and feels the tight muscles of his abs, following each line and ridge, sending goosebumps across his skin with her touch. All the while their lips are locked, moving in perfect synchrony and their tongues dance together, testing and dueling to map the path of the other.

His hand slides up, higher into the depths of her shirt, charting the skin stretched across her ribs and stomach. The contact sends her mind reeling and a quiet moan to escape her mouth, muted by his lips. She can feel him smiling. He breaks away for a moment and she opens her eyes to see his bright in the moment. “I’m sorry I made you die,” he teases, his voice low and husky. So sexy.

Felicity shakes her head. “I don’t really care anymore,” she admits, scraping her nails against the skin of his abs. He closes his eyes and growls. _How can growling be so sexy!?_

He grasps her wrist, stopping her from repeating the action. She looks him in the eye, challenging, but he shakes his head. “As much as I enjoy that,” he begins. “I’d rather not take this any further. At least, not when we’re in a hallway at a convention center full of greedy, unethical paparazzos.”

After a moment of consideration, Felicity nods with a frown. “I suppose you’re right.” But before she takes a step away from the wall, she trails her fingers up his abs to his chest, feeling his heart pounding and the warmth of his skin is intoxicating. She extricates her hand from the confines of his shirt and then steps aside, still leaning against the wall. He looms over her, his arm braced against the wall. So suave and arrogant and infuriating.

“Would you want to attend the farewell party with me?”

She raises an eyebrow, repositioning her glasses before looking him in the eye. “Farewell party?”

“There’s a huge party happening tonight. Loads of celebrities and media gurus and all the convention higher-ups. Basically the finale of the convention.”

She watches as his face goes from confident to unsure in a matter of moments in response to her silence. She leaves him to stew in that uncertainty for a little bit, savoring her influence over him. Finally, when she can see he’s losing patience, she moves forward and plants a kiss just below his lips, right on a mole that has begged so desperately to be kissed. As she pulls away, she nods. “Sure,” she says.

He grins like a fool, all nervousness dissipating with her answer. “Fantastic,” he murmurs, pulling her in for a hug. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

* * *

For once she is grateful for her mother’s insistence in not packing light. The habit had latched onto Felicity early on, back in her college years. She learned that there was always a chance that you might need something, and she was careful to be prepared for every possible scenario. _Thanks, mom,_ she thinks as she pulls out a dress she had packed on a whim. A black and gold fit-and-flare. As she holds it up against her in front of the mirror, she knows the perfect shoes to pair it with: the Valentino studded stilettos she had sported at her show’s panel. She scoffs at the celebrities who never wear the same pieces twice, finding that sort of obsession extremely materialistic. Those heels are one of her favorites, and she’ll wear them as often as possible. _Fashion laws be damned…_

As she’s curling her hair, her phone buzzes on the counter. She looks down to see the caller I.D. showcasing her mother’s smiling face. She sets the curling iron aside and answers it.

“Hey, Mom!”

Without a greeting or any other form of preamble, her mother blurts out: “Why didn’t you tell me you are dating Oliver Queen?”

Felicity’s mouth falls open. “Uh… what?”

“Don’t act like you’re not, Felicity Megan Smoak,” her mother scolds. “It is all over entertainment news right now!”

She rushes out into the room and turns the television on, surfing through the channels until she finds one of the nighttime entertainment news shows. They are discussing Oliver Queen’s sudden interest in Felicity Smoak, complete with photos of their final minutes in her hotel lobby and even their kiss in the cafe earlier today. She closes her eyes and counts to three, trying to keep calm.

“Felicity, when were you going to tell me?”

“Well,” Felicity begins, letting her words carefully build up before she lets them out. “I hadn’t really considered us dating, per se.”

“You’re kissing _Oliver Queen_ on a regular basis and you don’t consider it dating?” When she doesn’t answer, her mother continues. “They are showing an interview with you where you said you went on a date with him. Felicity, honey… have you two had sex?”

“Oh my god.”

“Honey, if you have, well… I want details.” Before Felicity can protest, her mother begins an embarrassing tirade. “He seems so gorgeous and strong. Is he… uh… well… _well-endowed_? He seems like he would be.”

She’s pacing the room, keeping her eyes away from the television and the nightmare publicity her new relationship is garnering. “Mom, we haven’t had sex. We’ve kissed… a lot. But that’s it.”

“Are you sure?”

Felicity lets out a laugh. “Yes, Mom. I’m sure I haven’t had sex with Oliver Queen.” She glances at the screen, finding it filled with the photo of them at the cafe. Oliver is leaning over the table to kiss her. The scene is so perfectly lit, as if from a movie. A romantic comedy. _Yes,_ she decides. _If that were from a movie, it would be a romantic comedy. Too perfect to be real._ But it is real. She has to remind herself of that.

“Felicity, you have to tell me if things get that serious.”

Felicity nods. “Well, I think it might be. He gave me a script for a film he wants me to co-star in with him.”

“How romantic!” her mother exclaims, her voice high and sing-song. “Are you gonna do it?”

“Yes,” she says, then looks at the time. _7:35pm_. She rushes back into the bathroom and looks into the mirror. Only one side of her hair is curled. “Mom, I have to go. I’m running really late for a party! I’ll be home for a few days starting tomorrow afternoon!”

They hang up and Felicity lets out a long breath. Her mother is a handful, but she adores her. She can’t wait to get back to her childhood home to spend some time there before filming. It will give her time to assess the new developments in her life. She places the phone of the counter and gets back to work on her hair, turning it into a collection of golden spirals. Once she’s done, she puts in her contacts and begins lining her eyelids with liquid liner, forming a perfect and simple cat-eye. Once that is done, she digs through her make-up bag and finds her favorite red lipstick and applies it.

She looks in the mirror at herself. She hasn’t slipped into her dress yet; she’s standing in her underwear, her hair and make-up perfect and her ears adorned with plain black and gold studs to match her shoes. She looks down at her hands and decides she needs a ring. She goes out and begins to dig through her collection of jewelry. Finally, she finds the gold arrow ring and slides it onto her finger. With that done, she steps into her dress and then buckles her heels. She glances at her reflection in the mirror once more to find herself way more put-together than she imagined she would be.

Satisfied with the outcome, she goes to the door and opens it to find Oliver standing there, hand raised in preparation to knock. His eyes are wide with surprise as he lowers his hand and looks her over. She does the same, admiring his gorgeous suit. Beneath the black jacket she can see a pair of suspenders and her mouth grows dry, unable to keep naughty thoughts from overtaking her. She closes her eyes and counts to three in an attempt to keep herself from throwing her body against his.

“Hi,” he murmurs. She opens her eyes to see him smiling.

His smile is contagious, causing her to return it without hesitation. He leans in and gives her a small peck on the lips, but he lingers there as if deciding whether to take it further.

It would be easy to do so. To take it further. To take the small step through her door and into her bedroom. There are no prying eyes here, no greedy paparazzos or insidious reporters. There are no fans to gawk at them or fellow celebrities to mingle with. Just the two of them and a room. And a bed.

She watches as Oliver looks behind her at the room, indecision obvious in the blue endlessness of his eyes. Suddenly he sighs and leans back slightly. “What?” she asks.

He chuckles. “This is so tempting.”

“What is?” she asks, coyly.

“You and me, that room… that bed.”

She looks away, feigning shyness. “I don’t know what you mean.” _No word vomit or unintentional thought expulsion! Be sexy and playful!_

Oliver leans forward once more, letting his lips graze the line of her jaw for a moment before reaching her ear. “It would be so easy to go in there and forget about the party.”

She lets her hands sink inside his jacket and she finds the suspenders and tugs, bringing him closer to her, letting their bodies rub together for a moment. He lets out a growl and she smiles. “I’m sure someone would miss us,” she says, pushing him away and closing her door. He closes his eyes for a moment, clearly experiencing some mixture of disappointment and relief.

She begins walking, allowing him the opportunity to watch her walk away, confident and in control, him clearly wrapped around her finger like the arrow ring she’s wearing.

* * *

They arrive to a loud and glamorous ballroom in one of the fanciest hotels in the city, Oliver’s fingers intertwined with hers. The room is scattered with fairy lights and candles and crystals galore. Felicity marvels at the splendor, taking it all in and enjoying the fact that her life involves attending such parties. The music is thunderous in the room, mixing with the conversation and general excitement of the event. A dance floor is framed with lights hanging down from the ceiling like the drooping leaves of a willow, but no one has filled it. The overall lighting is dim, relying on the flickering flames and tiny beams to fill the space.

Oliver leads them to a small table in a darkened corner. He pulls out a chair for her and she sits, crossing her legs and looking around, finding familiar faces everywhere; people she’s met and people she’s admired from afar mingling in the same room. Within moments, they are joined by John Diggle and his wife Lyla. They are experts at remaining out of the tabloids, never gracing covers or even being included in gossip. _Perhaps I should ask them for advice,_ Felicity thinks, smiling to herself as she watches how gentle and attentive Diggle is with Lyla, the epitome of dream husband. _No wonder so many people use them as the example of their personal relationship goals._ Felicity has seen the multitude of memes online proclaiming them the ultimate couple.

“So this weekend has been a whirlwind for you, huh?” Diggle asks her, jolting her out of her mind-babbles.

She nods. “Definitely. That might actually be an understatement.”

Oliver smirks at her words. “It hasn’t been _that_ bad, has it?”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing…”

Oliver looks over at her, the blue in his eyes dancing with the scattered candles. The thoughts and emotions within those depths tell her so many things. The implications in her words are clear to him. The weekend might have been full of craziness and stress, but it was well worth it. Meeting him was well worth it. She can sense relief in his posture and the wider smile that spreads across his lips.

“Well,” Lyla interrupts with a polite clearing of the throat as she signals for drinks. “What’s next for you?”

Felicity turns to see Lyla looking directly at her, the question hers to answer. She fumbles with words, unsure what to say. _Like, career-wise or summer-wise? What does she mean?_ She decides to go with the easiest answer, a combination of the two. “I’m going to spend time with my mom for a few days before heading back to Vancouver to start filming on the show.”

“Vegas, right?”

Felicity nods. “Yeah. Born and raised in Vegas. I don’t think my mom could ever leave there, so I try to visit as much as possible.”

Diggle and Lyla smile, then he joins in the conversation. “No luck bettering your mom’s life yet, right?”

“You have the same problem?” she asks, surprised. _I thought my mom was the only weird one._

Diggle laughs. “Trust me, I’ve tried on more than one occasion to better my parents’ lives, but they won’t have it. They want to stay in their rundown old house in the same ancient neighborhood where they’ve been since I was a toddler. My dad still does all the repairs on the house. He doesn’t trust anyone else to take care of it.” Diggle’s eyes go distant, as if recalling countless interactions with his father. Finally he glances sideways at Lyla, squeezing her hand. “I know the struggle.”

“Great. The only thing my mom has allowed me to do is buy her new furniture and help her plant her garden, which is probably a jungle of weeds by now. Oh, and she had me come in and paint the entirety of the house.”

Oliver laughs as a server brings them all glasses of champagne. He sips some, the amusement and humor still warming his features. Felicity frowns playfully. “Excuse me, what’s so funny?”

He ceases his laughter with a gulp that finishes the entire glass. “I’m imagining you being ordered around. You seem too opinionated and firey for that.”

“When your mom tells you to do something, you do it,” Felicity explains, completely serious. “She fought for countless hours to push me out of her vagina, the least I can do is paint her house.” Silence fills the table and Felicity closes her eyes, her cheeks quickly heating up. “This isn’t the type of scenario where the word vagina is okay, is it?” When no one answers, she facepalms. “Oh my god.”

Oliver’s laughter returns, followed by both Diggle and Lyla’s. Felicity opens her eyes and sighs as Lyla tries to speak. “I think...we’re...gonna...be great…friends,” she says between bursts of hilarity.

Felicity watches as Oliver and Diggle exchange a look which says: “This is _not_ good.”

They drink their champagne in silence, occasionally chatting about nothing in particular. The music continues, but still no one is dancing. Felicity eyes the dance floor with longing, wondering why no one is out there.

“Hello, party people!” a voice exclaims from behind her. She swivels in her chair to find Roy carrying a tray of shots. “Anyone up for some real refreshments?”

Without hesitation, Lyla grabs two glasses and hands one to her husband. He eyes it warily and this causes Lyla to pout. “How often do we let loose?” she asks. When he doesn’t answer right away, she lets out a puff of annoyance. “Exactly. Drink!”

Everyone takes one, quickly clinking glasses before downing the liquid fire, officially starting the party.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for the entire room to become a drunken cluster of bumbling fame. Felicity evenly pairs the liquor with glasses of water, keeping herself alert and hydrated. She notices Oliver does the same. There’s no press in the party, giving everyone in the room so much more freedom. She watches as Lyla and Diggle go from perfectly put-together to perfectly smashed, chatting loudly and in clipped, broken sentences. But they are adorable, truly enjoying themselves.

Finally the dance floor begins to fill with celebrities, all of them drunk or high. After a while, she feels Oliver lean in, his lips lingering at her ear to send shivers up and down her spine and goosebumps to rise on her flesh. “Wanna dance?”

Without a second thought, she nods and he’s grasping her hand and leading her out onto the floor. Her only thought is how she wants to grasp his suspenders but, much like her earlier vagina comment, it seems inappropriate.

The crowd, once sophisticated and the epitome of Comic-Con royalty, is now rowdy, downing every glass of champagne and liquor they can find. Felicity watches as the cast of _Hannibal_ dance in a circle, sans the famous Tumblr flower crowns. The two lead stars are smiling and bobbing their heads to the beat of the song, so unlike their characters. In another group, Jensen Ackles and Misha Collins are awkwardly shaking their asses, Misha completely straight-faced as always. Felicity has interacted with them on more than one occasion while filming alongside _Supernatural_ in Vancouver. They are her buddies, her guides in the world of CW television. Misha sees her and waves enthusiastically, and she returns the gesture before finally coming to the center of the dance floor.

She looks up at Oliver to find him looking very uneasy. “Are you okay?” she asks, leaning in to whisper the words up into his ear.

He nods, but she can see in his eyes that he would prefer to be back at the table. But Roy and Lyla and Diggle have already ventured out onto the floor. Roy is flailing about with one of their co-stars, Lily, while her boyfriend watches from the sidelines looking annoyed but clearly not threatened despite rumors that had spread about his girlfriend and Roy.

“You don’t like to dance, do you?”

He shakes his head with a grin, caught in his lie. “I hate it.”

“Then why ask me to dance?”

He pulls her closer and begins to move them to the fast-paced beat of the music. “Because I could tell you wanted to.”

She drops the subject, just happy to have an excuse for him to touch her. They get lost in the song, moving well together no matter how awkward they feel. The music is fun and carefree and so perfect for the party’s attendees. Without the threat of paparazzi and reporters, the entire room has been given a gift. They can be themselves if they don’t normally allow themselves to be. Felicity smiles at this. She wishes celebrities were given that opportunity more often.

Suddenly the music slows down. The bodies on the dance floor slowly disperse, leaving only couples. Oliver brings her as close as he can, causing her tummy to flutter. _Will I ever get used to this?_

She looks up at him, finding him gazing down at her with those gorgeous blue eyes, so full of everything he keeps locked away with brooding quiet. She can see the nervousness there, but also complete interest in her and her desires. She looks away quickly, afraid of what she might say or do if she continues to keep eye contact. And she keeps her eyes away from the hidden suspenders, knowing all too well what those will do to her weakening control. _He’s so attentive,_ she thinks as she feels his thumb rubbing circles into the small of her back. _I can only imagine how sex…_ she keeps herself from finishing the thought, knowing it would break her down and leave her wanting everything all at once.

The song fades into another, just as slow and just as romantic. Oliver lifts her chin, turning her to look at him once more. She gulps down her own nerves and makes unwanted but totally wanted eye contact. And suddenly his lips are on hers. At first she doesn’t respond, shocked that he would be so willing to be public with his affection. But then her emotions collapse and she’s kissing him back, their bodies still swaying to the music. And time feels stopped in that moment.

All too soon, the moment is over when someone taps Felicity on the shoulder. She breaks the kiss, looking up at Oliver and rolling her eyes. Then she glances over to see Aisha Tyler looking very annoyed and very impatient.

“Felicity, you need to rein in your buddy over there.” Felicity follows Aisha’s pointing finger to find Roy making a fool of himself by the dessert bar. He’s jabbing a finger into the chest of a guy she doesn’t recognize. Covered by the loud music, she can only guess what he’s saying. “He’s confronting your co-star’s boyfriend… and it doesn’t look pretty.”

“You mean Lily’s boyfriend?” she asks, panic rising. Oliver’s arm tightens comfortingly around her, and she’s grateful for the support it gives her.

Aisha nods. “Felicity, you need to get Roy out of here. He’s fucked up. And I’d rather not see a fight break out.”

Felicity walks away without another word, toward the confrontation, her blood boiling. _Why did this have to happen? And when I’m with Oliver. Ugh._

She ignores the yelling and the carelessly tossed insults, grabbing Roy by the jacket with a curt: “We’re out of here.” She can sense Oliver at her heels, worried and warm and, as always, caring. Roy fights to break away from her grasp, but clumsily fails, cursing repeatedly under his breath. “Shut up! You’ve ruined the night.”

Once they are outside of the ballroom, she lets go. Roy straightens his jacket, his face tight and tense and red.

“What did you think you were doing?” Felicity asks, her heart pounding. Oliver is standing to the side, between the two of them, his face a mask of protective stoicism.

“Letting that asswipe know how much of an asswipe he is.”

Felicity closes her eyes at the words, calming herself before she speaks. “Roy,” she says, ignoring the desire to reach out a comforting hand. “I understand you’re pissed, but if she wants to be with him, there’s nothing you can do.”

Roy’s hands are clenched into fists and his eyes are fogging over with angry, drunken tears. “He’s hurt her so many times.”

She nods. “I know. Really, I know.” And she does. She’s had conversation upon conversation with Lily regarding her boyfriend and the constant on-and-off, uncaring relationship she’s had with him. “Even if you two had something, you can’t control every outcome. If she wants to be with him, you have to let her make that mistake.”

He looks up, squinting against the tears. “Do you think she’s making a mistake?”

Felicity shrugs. “That’s not for me to decide.”

They all stand together, silently. She glances at Oliver, begging him for help without saying anything and he nods. “Let’s get you back to your room, bud,” he says, patting Roy on the shoulder. The contact sends Roy forward and Oliver catches him, keeping him upright.

They help him out of the building and walk through downtown San Diego, the fresh coastal air clearing Roy’s mind. He realizes his mistake and quickly begins pleading for forgiveness. They hush him, telling him he’ll have to wait until tomorrow for that. They enter the hotel he and Felicity have been staying in and get in the elevator. He’s a floor below Felicity.

They get him to his room and he goes to the bed without hesitation and collapses. They watch him for a few moments, waiting for him to move. Then they hear his soft snores.

Felicity chuckles. “I guess humiliation and regret are awfully tiring, especially when drunk.”

Oliver nods and leads her out of the room, closing the door slowly behind them. “Do you want to go back to the party?” he asks as they stand outside Roy’s room.

She thinks for a moment. The idea sounds wonderful. Some more dancing and flirting and drinking. But she knows she has a long drive ahead of her the next morning, and she knows her mother will have projects for her to tackle as soon as she walks into her childhood home. She shakes her head, sadly. “I think it would be best to call it a night.”

They go to the elevator, holding hands. She can feel the lines on his palm, etched deep and winding. The sensation is wonderful, having his skin touching hers and she can’t help it… she wonders how other bits of their skin would feel against one another. She sighs lightly, too low for him to notice as he presses the button. _I need to stop this…_

 

They board the elevator and go up one floor, the ride too short for any frisky business. And within moments they are at her door, awkwardly facing one another and the inevitable goodbye. His hand his still holding hers and he squeezes it, drawing her eyes up to his. She can tell he’s dreading this; he’s dreading the farewell and the long-distance and the wait for production on the film to begin. She’s dreading it too.

She crosses the distance between them and plants a kiss at the corner of his mouth, then whispers against his skin: “See you on set.”

She unlocks her door and enters the room, not looking back, knowing looking back will lead to rustled sheets and sweating bodies. And she’s not ready for that. She doesn’t want that, with him, under farewell circumstances. She closes the door and leans against it, steadying herself as an onrush of fear and loneliness cross over her. She already misses him.

After a while, she slips out of her dress and into a baggy t-shirt. She turns the bed down and crawls in. Before she shuts off the lights she glances at her phone, which she left in her room for the night. She picks it up and finds a new message that sends her heart racing and tummy fluttering in all the best ways that only Oliver Queen can cause.

**Oliver Queen: I hope to see you sooner than that.**

_-12:57am_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! What did you think? 
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on tumblr: arrow-through-my-writers-block.tumblr.com


	8. Traffic, Gardening & Awkward Motherly Comments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while since my last update! And with all the comic-con amazingness (especially in terms of Olicity), I felt it was time to update! :D So here's the next chapter! If there are any errors, please let me know so I can fix them!
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued support of this story! It means the world! So don't forget to leave comments and kudos! Your feedback is truly important to me and the continued improvement of this story!

[Felicity's roadtrip outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=163857410)

[Donna Smoak's outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=168664370)

[Felicity's gardening outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=164888911)

[Oliver's outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=165168784)

 

Felicity awakes with a smile, recalling Oliver’s text from the night before. She sits up in bed and shakes her head, still reeling and unwilling to accept that everything that has happened over the convention weekend has been real. But it was, it is, and will continue to be real. She crawls out of bed and turns the television on, catching the weather report for San Diego. It will be lovely, the meteorologist says with classic news anchor optimism. But Felicity frowns. _Vegas is gonna be hell…_

She goes to the bathroom and flips the shower on, letting it heat up while she takes care of other things. As she washes her hands, she looks up into the mirror to see her once perfect cat-eyes now smudged and her lips still slightly red from the lipstick. She takes out a make-up removal wipe and goes to work, the mirror slowly fogging up, obscuring her reflection. She tosses the wipe away and undresses, ducking into the shower and instantly enjoys the heat of the water.

Once she’s done, she goes out into the room, wrapped in her towel, and digs through her excessive wardrobe for something that will work well for her long drive home to Vegas. Finally she picks a pair of jean shorts, a black tank top and a lacy half-tank to go under it. She slips into these items and then goes to her phone. When she opens the lock screen, she finds Oliver’s message looking back at her, a promise she’s unsure can even be kept. But she smiles once more, unable to help it. _What a warlock…_

She finally exits from the message and sends a quick text to her mother to let her know she’ll be leaving San Diego soon. Then she leaves her room and heads to the floor below her, knocking on Roy’s door twice. He opens it with a pained groan.

“Good morning!” Felicity exclaims and Roy winces, his hand flying to his head to rub at his temple.

“Use your indoor voice, please.”

Felicity giggles as she goes into the room. Roy is still in his clothes from the night before, minus the shoes, socks and dress jacket. His hair is a mess and his eyes are squinty against the light coming in from the window.

“Why can’t check-out time be at, like, two o'clock?” he asks, wiping at his eyes. “That would be so glorious.”

“Hotel management doesn’t care about guests’ possible hangovers or broken hearts,” Felicity reminds him, then reaches out and takes his hand. “How are you doing… heart-wise. I can tell you feel like crap.” She watches as Roy frowns deeply and shakes his head. She squeezes his hand in encouragement.

“I made an ass out of myself last night, didn’t I?” he asks, looking up into her eyes.

She nods. “Just a little.” When Roy groans, she squeezes his hand again. “Roy, I get it. You really care about her. But if she’s not willing to move forward with a decent guy, it is clear to me that you deserve so much better.”

“But-”

“No! You do. No buts about it.” Felicity gets up and goes to the coffeemaker and begins brewing a pot. She turns and faces Roy once more, finding him pouting. “You’ll find someone so much better for you, I promise!”

He looks up at her and she can see his heartache written deep in his eyes, set there for the long haul. “You can’t promise that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Stop being so pessimistic. Love isn’t simple, but it also isn’t impossible. You’ll find someone.”

They reside in silence for the rest of her visit, sipping coffee once it is brewed and watching an 80s classic on one of the movie channels. They laugh at the right times and enjoy their last few minutes together before Felicity tosses her empty cup into the trash and stands up.

“You have to get cleaned up and I have to head out,” she says, walking to the door while dragging her bare feet.

“Heading to Vegas?” he asks, following closely behind her.

“Yeah. I haven’t spent much time with Mom lately, and she’s definitely not in the mood for me to be distant right now.”

Roy chuckles. “I take it Donna knows about Oliver?”

Felicity nods, letting out an annoyed huff. “Yeah…”

“Well at least she won’t be meeting him anytime soon.”

* * *

 

The traffic heading back to Nevada is a slow crawl. Everyone is heading home after the long weekend and no one seems willing to relax; the dread of real life is sinking in. Felicity has her music playing low and the windows down, letting the breeze roll in. The highway is totally crowded and all that’s left is to wait out the stupidity.

Halfway through her trip, her phone’s text notification sounds and she grabs her phone once the traffic jam stills once more and instantly smiles.

**Oliver Queen: I can only imagine the traffic back to Vegas is terrible right now so why not have a little Q &A?**

_-1:13pm_

Felicity stares at the screen for a moment, then hears a horn honking behind her. She moves the car forward to avoid any unnecessary road spats and then halts once more. She quickly texts back.

**Me: I’m driving though.**

_-1:14pm_

Oliver answers faster than she expects.

**Oliver Queen: Video chat then?**

_-1:14pm_

**Me: Sure.**

_-1:14pm_

And within moments she’s getting a video chat request, which she accepts without hesitation, propping the phone up on the dock attached to the dash. As the request goes through and Oliver’s smiling face appears, she can’t help but feel that everything from the last fews days has been totally surreal.

“Well, hello gorgeous!” Oliver greets her with a wink. Traffic has moved and stilled once more, so she watches him, trying to pinpoint where he’s calling her from.

“Hey,” she responds, then squints at the world behind him. “Are you in an airport?”

He nods. “Yeah. Trying to decide where to run off to next.”

“You’re not going home?”

Oliver shrugs. “For a little while.” He stares at her, and she can’t help but blush. And as she stares back, she thinks back to their kisses and she blushes more. He brings her out of her swooning by clearing his throat. “So, since you already asked two questions, I think I’ll move forward with two for you.”

The cars begin crawling forward and she moves her car to follow, then stops once more. “Okay,” she says. “Shoot.”

“What was your favorite part of the convention?”

She lets out a laugh, unable to keep it locked down. “That’s a trick! I _have_ to say our date or I could hurt your feelings.”

“Felicity, I have two questions. The first is strictly about the convention. This is not a trick.” He brings a cup of coffee into frame and sips it loudly, then grins as he adds: “So, what was your favorite part of the convention?”

She thinks about it as traffic moves a little farther, at greater speed. As she puts on the brake as the cars slow down, she smiles. “Well, it would have been kicking ass at that video game in the exhibit hall but you destroyed that.” She glances at him and finds him frowning, so she quickly lightens the mood. “But, really, I might’ve died anyway… so I’ll say that crashing your panel was my favorite.”

He grins, relief clearly written on his face. “Okay, now, what was your favorite part of the date?”

“Besides venue?”

He nods. “Besides venues,” he repeats with a chuckle.

“The kiss in the fog.”

She says it without hesitation, and she knows it sounds pathetic, but she thinks back to that moment with the fog settling in and her fear being so completely destroyed once he has her in his arms. She thinks back to that first kiss, remembering the sensations and the romance of it all. And then Oliver breaks through her memories with his words. “That was my favorite part too.” And then he laughs. “Though I think it might be tied with the elevator ride.”

She nods, then finds the traffic picking up speed. “It looks like traffic is moving normally,” she says sadly. “I suppose I should focus on that.”

“Am I really that distracting?” he asks.

She nods her head furiously. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

And then they say their goodbyes and the video chat ends, leaving her with a pounding heart and a silly smile on her face. 

* * *

 

She hits the edge of Vegas and smiles, feeling her homesickness more acutely. She stifles it and reminds herself she left Vegas for a reason and everything has been fantastic since. But she truly misses her mother despite how much of a handful she is. _Her questions are all going to be about Oliver now..._

The skyline of The Strip pushes through the haze of smog, all grandeur and neon and gimmicks. Felicity remembers growing up and loving the lights and colors, but now she’s seen more of the world, giving her the understanding that there is greater things in the world than casinos shaped like pyramids.

She continues down the freeway, the line of casinos and constant construction following her all the way to her exit between the old downtown and The Strip. She travels the familiar, busy road and turns down a side street to avoid more late afternoon traffic, cutting into a shaded neighborhood. Kids are running through sprinklers, reminding Felicity of how fun it is.

She turns down her moms street and breathes in deeply. _Home._ She parks beside her mother’s beat up old cadillac and begins gathering her belongings from the backseat. Before she can make it to the door, Donna is already running out, chattering as her heeled flip-flops smack against the concrete. She’s there hugging before Felicity is ready and drops her bags.

“Hey, Mom!”

And then she’s being dragged into the house, finding it the same as she left it last. The walls are the same lavender purple and the furniture the same black and beige leather. The walls are still adorned with all of Felicity’s school photos, along with really cheesy Glamor Shots her mom had insisted would make her a star long before Felicity ever dreamed of being a one. Their two grumpy old cats are stretching on top of the couch, meowing in her direction. She leaves her bags in the doorway and goes to them immediately, scratching behind their ears and under their chins until they are purring balls of fluff.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

Felicity turns to her mother and smiles. “Sweet tea?” she asks.

“You know I always have a pitcher at the ready!”

They go to the small kitchen and Felicity sits at the table while her mother pours them each a glass of sweet tea. They sip and chat at the table while the cats rub against Felicity’s legs, their tails flicking back and forth in graceful curls. Then they go their separate ways.

“So, tell me more about Oliver Queen,” Donna asks, finally.

_I expected her to ask about him sooner,_ Felicity thinks with a grin. “There’s not much to say. I’m still kind of in shock.”

“Felicity Smoak… speechless?” Donna jokes, twisting her bracelets around. “He must really be something.”

Felicity nods, a blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. “Yeah… he’s something.”

She glances up to find Donna’s eyes bright and her smile wide. “Tell me about him. What’s he like?”

Felicity thinks on the question. She feels like she knows him so well, but she also feels that she could get to know him more. She recalls their conversations on the yacht; personal and detailed and full of sincerity. She recalls his mannerisms and his laugh and everything that makes him Oliver Queen. When she looks back up at her mother, she feels her heart pounding. “Honestly, there’s no one like him.”

“Well, I mean, look at him,” Donna says with a sigh, pretending to fan herself.

“It’s not just that, Mom.” Felicity looks out the window over the sink, finding the trees outside perfectly still - an odd occurrence in the usually windy Vegas valley. One of the cats, Esther, is stalking a bird as it perches on a low hanging branch. “You would think his wealth and fame would have gotten to his head and he’d be a gigantic asshole, but he’s such a sweet and sincere person.” She closes her eyes for a second and sees Oliver smiling down at her, the way he does right before a kiss. _And those lips are to die for…_

“Felicity,” her mother said, beckoning her out of the daydream. “I think you’re starstruck.”

“It’s not some silly celebrity crush, Mom. We really hit it off and I never expected to be interested in a man like him.” She pours herself another glass of tea and continues. “I mean, we both actively sought each other out at the convention and when we couldn’t see each other, we were texting back and forth. On the way here, we video chatted. I just… I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone like him.”

With a giggle, Donna pats Felicity’s arm. “Yep, you’re starstruck.”

* * *

 

The rest of the evening is filled with cooking together and then watching old movies, curled up on the couch with popcorn and the cats as foot heaters. When she begins to doze off, Felicity kisses her mother’s cheek and says goodnight, heading straight to her childhood bedroom. It is as she left it when she went off to college. The same pink and white flowery quilt and colorful throw pillows.The same stack of computer science books she had never returned to the library. The same posters and old high school photographs. She’s contemplated taking them down before, but she likes coming home and absorbing the past in order to move forward into the future once more.

She collapses onto the bed, quickly followed by Esther, who rolls into a ball at the edge and instantly falls asleep. Felicity pulls out her phone and is greeted by a message from Caitlin.

**Caitlin Snow: Call me ASAP!**

_-10:03pm_

It has been thirty minutes since the text came through, but Felicity knows how Caitlin can be. She knows she’s sitting there staring at her phone, just waiting for a call. So she hits the call button and waits for an answer.

“You won’t believe what I just discovered!” Caitlin says without a greeting.

“A new component to your theory of time travel?” Felicity asks.

“No, silly! Though, I have been delving further into my equations regarding what might happen to the human body if time travel were possible and… Ah! No! Don’t distract me, Felicity!”

Felicity chuckles. “Sorry.”

“Anyways! I just read online that some fans saw _Oliver Queen_ getting off a plane in _Vegas_! Vegas, Felicity! Vegas!”

Her eyes grow wide at Caitlin’s words. She thinks back to their conversation earlier that day and how he didn’t confirm or deny whether his flight was taking him back to Starling City. He had been vague and flirty and winky in a very mischievous way, but she had totally missed it. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, someone got photos and everything!”

“Oh my god.”

“He came to Vegas for you!”

“Oh my god.”

“Felicity,” Caitlin exclaims, all bubbling excitement. “Do you know what this means?”

“Yeah,” she groans in response, covering her face with her free hand. “He’s gonna have to meet my mother.”

The conversation diverts from there, Caitlin clearly understanding how nervous these developments are making Felicity. And she tries to listen as Caitlin talks about work. About her theories and equations and improvements to the university’s labs. But all Felicity can think about is the possibility that it is true. That Oliver Queen is in her city. Her hometown. She reminds herself that he doesn’t have her address so, if he plans on seeing her, he’ll have to contact her about it first.

The phone call with Caitlin ends with promises of more calls and texts and other things friends need to do more of. Felicity is about to put her phone aside when she sees the notification for a text message. When she opens it, she’s grinning like a child.

**Oliver Queen: Sweet dreams, Felicity**

_-11:01pm_

**Me: Sweet dreams, Mr. Queen**

_-11:11pm_

* * *

 

Felicity wakes up, the sunlight streaming through the window above her bed triggering a headache. _I’m not even hungover. What the hell…_ She gets up and rushes to the bathroom and takes two Excedrins with a palm full of water from the tap. Then she goes back into her bedroom and checks the time, finding it much too early to be up, but she’s already alive and ready for the day.

So she digs some shorts and tank tops from her bag and quickly showers. Once clean and dressed, Felicity goes to the kitchen and pours herself a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice and makes her way out into the living room. She flips on the television and finds an old movie, quickly losing herself in the story and her breakfast.

She’s not sure how long she’s been sitting in front of the television, but she finally hops up from the couch and takes her bowl to the sink and then goes back to her room. She grabs a pair of black flip-flops and a hat and then goes into the backyard. She makes straight for the tool shed, digging out all the necessary gardening tools and then makes her way around the house to the front garden. Just as she suspected, it is overrun with weeds, but the flowers are growing and blooming despite that heat and imposters. She admires the blossoms. Blues and yellows and pinks and purples. It fits her mother’s personality so well to have such brightness and color outside her home, giving everything a cheerful and inviting vibe.

She begins carefully pulling out the weeds, being sure not to uproot the flowers and other plants. The sunlight is already unforgiving, already hinting at the scorching temperatures the day will bring. Sweat starts to form on the back of her neck and the small of her back from the exertion, and she’s grateful for the hat. It keeps her face shaded and cool.

Felicity is halfway through the garden when she hears a car pull up somewhere along the street behind her, but she doesn’t turn around. She’s invested in her task and the necessity of it. Then she hears a car door open and close and footsteps crunching in the grass behind her. Before she turns her head, the person speaks. “Felicity Smoak?”

_He’s everywhere!_ she thinks to herself in shock. She dusts off her hands and turns around to find Oliver Queen standing in her mother’s front yard, a drink tray holding three large sodas, with a goofy smile on his face.

And her eyes trail down, admiring his casual clothing. Shorts, slip-on sneakers and a henley that fits him in all the right places. She can’t stop staring. And he can’t stop smiling, his eyes squinting against the sun. Finally she stands, keeping her distance at first, unwilling to accept that he’s really in front of her. _This can’t be happening!_

“Why are you here?” she asks flatly, trying not to expose her excitement.

He lets out a breathy, nervous laugh. “I just thought I’d drop by,” he answers awkwardly.

“You thought that you would drop by my mother’s house… in Vegas?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Are you a warlock?” she asks, and instantly slaps her forehead. “I mean...uh...oh my god.”

And now he’s laughing loudly, with all of his body thrown into it. She steps forward and takes the drink tray and he instantly doubles over, his legs growing shaky with his laughter. Finally he collapses onto the grass, his eyes crinkled shut and his face turning red. She just stares at him, waiting for him to calm down and for her cheeks to lighten.

“What do you mean by _warlock_?” he asks as he wipes tears away from the corners of his eyes.

She shakes her head in disbelief. “You have all the charm in the world. You take me for a date on a yacht. You crash my convention panel with adorableness. And you somehow show up at my childhood home with sodas and-”

“It’s lemonade, actually,” he interrupts with a wink.

“ _Lemonade_.” She rolls her eyes slightly. “How do you expect me not to think you have some sort of magical, supernatural or superhuman abilities?” She waits for him to answer but he just shrugs his shoulders again. “How’d you even know where to find me?”

He grins sheepishly. “I asked your agent.”

_Cisco…_

She knows that maybe she should be freaked out or mad. But something about his eagerness to see her and his enthusiasm for their relationship hits her hard, and she can’t help but smile.

He stands up and closes the gap between them. He leans forward and gives her a small peck on the lips. Then he lets his lips hover above hers and Felicity’s knees begin to grow weak. “I can’t be here long. Maybe a couple days. So can we make the most of it?”

She nods her head like a little child and he kisses her more passionately, mindful of the tray separating their bodies.

Then they hear a throat clear.

Felicity breaks away from Oliver just in time to see her mother standing on the front porch, her outfit similar to the one from the day before, this time in bright green. Her arms are crossed at her chest and she’s grinning mischievously, one brow raised. “This must be the handsome Oliver Queen.”

Oliver steps away from Felicity and heads straight for Donna, his hand out in greeting. “And you must be Donna Smoak!” he proclaims with all of his aforementioned charm. “It is very nice to meet you, ma’am. You have a lovely daughter and a lovely home.”

Donna blushes slightly, making Felicity keenly aware of where her own blushing habit comes from. “Well, I’m glad you appreciate them.” Donna’s eyes trail up and down Oliver, surveying him as if she plans on staking a claim. Felicity jumps up and goes to stand next to them. Donna gives Felicity a little eyebrow wiggle, as if to say _nice job_ or _he’s even hotter in person_. “We should go to the backyard. I have the misters going and it is really beautiful at this time of day. Morning and late evening. Best times to relax outside in Vegas!”

Oliver nods enthusiastically, and then they are all heading through the house. Donna gives a brief tour of the home, full of pride in the place she’s built and maintained for herself and her daughter. Felicity can’t help but feel proud too.

Finally they settle out on the back porch, the misting system cooling the air around them with moisture and they drink their lemonade, chatting about all sorts of things. Donna grills Oliver on his family and his career and even his past flames, leaving Felicity beside him covering her face. “Mom, please,” she begs. “Stop interrogating him.”

“No, Felicity, it’s okay,” Oliver says. “I understand your mother’s interest and concern. I don’t have a very good track record with women. Honestly, I was somewhat of an ass in the past. But I am truly a different person now, and I hope both of you see that.”

Felicity smiles, her eyes fogging slightly with tears at his sincerity. _Pull it together, Smoak!_ “I do see that,” she admits, reaching over and squeezing the hand that his resting on his leg. He looks down at their hands and grins.

After a few more minutes, Oliver excuses himself to the restroom. As soon as the door into the house shuts, Donna is giggling with incredible excitement. “Oh, Felicity, I really like him. You chose a good one!”

Felicity nods, unable to speak in that moment. She looks out over her childhood backyard, with the rundown swing set and the sprinklers she used to run through and the second garden she still maintains. And now, with Oliver in the mix, learning and smiling and exuding charm. Once again, everything is surreal and she’s unsure whether she’s dreaming.

Then Donna speaks, reminding her that everything is reality. “But I honestly don’t understand why you haven’t climbed that man like a tree yet!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think?
> 
> Also, you can follow me on social media!  
> tumblr: arrow-through-my-writers-block.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @miss_writer


	9. Pizza, Dollar Margaritas & One Hell Of A View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!! I hope you're all still here and willing to read this story despite the lengthy waits between chapters! 
> 
> But here's the next chapter, along with an AMAZING cover from my partner in crime, Darlene (doubledeez06 on tumblr). Thank you, dearie! You're the best!!! :D

 

[ _Felicity's Date Outfit_ ](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck/set?id=166022020)

* * *

 

It doesn’t take long for Oliver to get quiet in the midst of Donna’s innuendos and wiggling eyebrows of suggestion, giving Felicity the idea to take their interactions elsewhere… away from Donna. She suggests meeting him on Fremont Street later that evening for a night of simple sight-seeing and dollar margaritas. He agrees without hesitation, mouthing a _thank you_ when Donna isn’t looking.

So Felicity spends the afternoon finishing up the yard work she started that morning and then falls into date preparation mode. She showers, scrubbing and rinsing away the dirt and sweat caked onto her skin from the day’s labor. Once she’s done, she wipes away the fog from the window and brushes out the tangles, contemplating her reflection. Should she have her hair up or down? Curled or straight? _Down and straight, slight curl at the tips._

She locks the towel into place over her chest and rushes out into the hall and to her bedroom. She digs through her luggage and finds the perfect outfit, complete with matching shoes and bracelet. Bright yellow top and navy shorts scattered with little palm trees. She changes into the outfit, grabs her makeup bag and then makes her way back to the bathroom, coming face-to-face with Donna. “Yes, mother?”

“I think he’s the best guy you’ve ever dated,” Donna responds, her face beaming with excitement. “Make this date count, honey!”

Felicity rolls her eyes and squeezes through the small space Donna has left in the doorway. “This is only our second date… well, third if you count the fancy convention party we went to the other night…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Donna says, shaking her head. She has a hand on her hip. That motherly stance that demands attention and comprehension. “Make this count. He is a gem and I know you agree.”

“Of course I agree,” Felicity admits, digging out her foundation and brushes. She begins applying her makeup, keeping her eyes on the mirror yet feeling her mother’s eyes boring into her. “But it is too early to actually assume it is gonna work out in that way.”

Donna scoffs. “Felicity, really. You guys interact like you’re meant to be. I know you feel it.”

She lowers the brush from her face and turns to her mother. “Can I please get ready without having to speculate about this relationship which is still new and exciting?”

Donna nods and leaves, her peppy demeanor slightly deflated.

Felicity finishes her makeup and then begins work on her hair. She mulls over her mother’s words, knowing she feels exactly as Donna said, but she tries to push the feelings down. _You can’t get ahead of yourself,_ she thinks as she blow dries through a section of her hair. _What if it doesn’t work out…_

She shakes her head quickly, knowing she can’t think that way. She sees Oliver’s face in her mind, smiling and winking and giving her butterflies all over again. There was undeniable chemistry and each moment with him so far has seemed like pure perfection. _Maybe it’s too good to be true…_

She shakes her head again. She fluffs the small curls at the ends of her hair and smiles at her reflection. “You have to believe this is gonna work out,” she tells herself in a whisper. She applies a little lipstick and then leaves the bathroom. She slips into her heels and then grabs her purse, shouting a goodbye to her mother before she can be stopped and given an awkward pep talk.

The Vegas heat bombards her, causing her to miss the comfort of the house. She gets into her car and waits for the A/C to cool before pulling out of the driveway.

* * *

 

She parks in the garage at the Plaza at the north end of Fremont Street. The old elevator whirs and shakes as it travels down to casino level. She doesn’t plan on remaining at the Plaza; she only parks there for the cheaper parking fee. Once in the casino, she makes her way to the Fremont Street entrance and goes out, instantly hit with the loud obnoxiousness of the area. Street performers and impersonators litter the streets, quietly eyeing tourists in the hopes of enough attention and interest to gain a few dollars. The carts with souvenirs are numerous and clutter Fremont Street Experience. Luckily, Felicity is meeting Oliver on a side street at one of her favorite restaurants.

She turns left and hears the rock music floating on the air from her destination. Pizza Rock. As she nears the restaurant, she sees Oliver standing outside, hands plunged deep into his pockets as he paces the sidewalk. She halts and watches him for a few moments, admiring him as she’s done so many times over the last few days. He’s gorgeous. So gorgeous. _Warlock or Greek god, it makes no difference. He’s hot._

He catches sight of her and begins waving, forcing her to cross the street and come to a stop in front of him. He grins widely, like a fool, and she can’t help but return the expression. “Long time no see,” he mumbles as he reaches forward and takes her into his arms, his cologne wafting over her, clouding her mind for a few moments.

“I hope you enjoy this place,” she says, savoring the comforting closeness before breaking the embrace. “The pizza is phenomenal.”

“I trust you.”

She looks up at him and sees how sincere he is. Then she starts laughing.

“What are you laughing about?” he asks, his right brow rising with curiosity.

“Apparently our go-to date food is pizza.” She points to the restaurant behind him and shakes her head.

He laughs and pulls her closer. “It’s okay to have a preference.”

With this comment, they make their way inside and are seated near the bar. They look over the menu, at the many choices and agree upon Detroit Red Top. She orders herself a spicy margarita and he orders a fancy beer she’s not familiar with. The music is overwhelming, but they are seated on the same side of the table so close together that whispering into each other's ears is easy. They chat about random things: family, work, friends, favorite hobbies. Nothing is off limits. When the pizza arrives, they dig in, the thick crust deadly and yet so perfect.

She eyes him as he takes his first bite, a grow raised in impatience. “Well?” she asks as he chews.

He nods excitedly. “Fantastic!” he exclaims, then grins. “But still not as good as the parlor in Starling.”

She chuckles. “I’m sure I’ll get to taste that pizza eventually.”

His grin widens into a bright smile. “That is one of my goals.”

She nudges him playfully. “Oh really? What other relationship goals do you have?”

He winks, cutting himself another bite and stabbing it with his fork. “You’ll find out when I reach them,” he whispers against her ear and then kisses her earlobe before taking another bite.

The mention of their future and relationship goals sends her stomach into spirals. She feels nervous and excited at the same time, unable to keep thoughts from sprouting in her head. Them on the movie set, acting side-by-side. Them at award shows, dressed to the nines, the talk of the red carpet. Them in Starling at some sort of corporate gala, dancing closely.

She snaps out of her daydreams and continues eating, enjoying his company and the food. Once they are done, he demands to pay for the meal and then they leave, hand-in-hand. She leads them back to Fremont Street and into one of the casinos. They weave through the slot-machines and tables, the clinking and beeping of gambling a cacophony to her ears. She’s reminded how rarely she ventures into casinos.

She guides them to a bar at the heart of the chaos. She points at the margarita machines behind it and smiles. “Dollar margaritas.”

Oliver chuckles and she orders them each one. The bartender recognizes them instantly, but says nothing. He just eyes them in awe. Soon he returns with two plastic cups with icy yellow contents. She watches as Oliver takes a sip and his eyes begin to water. “Shit,” he gasps, setting the cup down on the napkin in front of him. “That’s sour.”

“What do you expect from a dollar margarita, Oliver?”

“You’re right. I need to set my expectations a little lower.” He takes another sip and she can see him fighting the urge to cough. She giggles and drinks from her cup, enjoying the sourness.

They only drink the one margarita, Oliver’s distaste for it overwhelming. She rolls her eyes playfully at his watering eyes as she pays for them and then they leave the bar, snaking their way back through the casino and out into the rush of Fremont. She drags him through crowds and to East Fremont, the hip and artsy section of downtown. They line-up outside of The Griffin, the green sign above them changing the hue of his eyes from bright blue to frothy sea-foam.

While they wait to enter the bar, she smiles as Oliver steps behind her, wrapping his arms around her and kisses her neck lightly. She pats his wrist. “Not appropriate, Oliver,” she scolds.

He chuckles against her neck, sending goosebumps up and down her body despite the scorching Vegas temperatures. “Considering how many street performers I’ve seen with their asses hanging out, I think I can kiss your neck without people finding it inappropriate.”

_He has a point, Smoak!_ she thinks to herself, then tilts her head slightly, exposing more of her neck to him. He takes the hint and kisses along her pulse point, sending electricity through her body to replace the previous goosebumps.

Before he can send her into deliriousness, the line moves and they are entering the bar. The lights are dimmed, low flickering lanterns and fireplaces creating an atmosphere that is nothing like the typical Vegas bar. She imagines they are in a mountain lodge, the world outside covered in snow. She wonders what it would be like to be trapped at a lodge with Oliver Queen. She’s certain her mind will fall into the gutter if she dwells on the possibilities for too long.

Oliver kisses her cheek and then makes his way over to the bar, ordering them drinks. She hasn’t told him what to order, but she trusts his judgment as she plops into a corner booth, the light barely illuminating it. When Oliver returns, she finds his hands filled with two glasses of red wine. As he scoots in beside her, she grins. “Nice choice, Mr. Queen.”

He winks. “Only the best for Miss Smoak,” he whispers, handing her a glass. They quietly toast and then sip their wine at the same time. The alcohol is getting to her, sending her senses into overdrive. Even with the smoky air and warmth around them, she leans against him, bringing her lips to his neck like he had to hers. As she lets her lips graze his neck, she hears him hiss. “Is this payback?”

She simply continues kissing his neck. She knows there’s not enough light for anyone to pay much attention to them, and so far no one has recognized them. But soon he is pulling away. “Let’s enjoy the wine first, Felicity.”

She nods. She savors the rich flavor against her tongue and they chat for a while. Once their glasses are empty, however, she’s tugging him up and away from the booth. “C’mon!” she insists, dragging him to the back of the bar, through a hallway and into the back room to find the dance floor. The music pulses around them and the floor is crowded with grinding bodies, swaying and churning through the room. She leads him to the center of the crowd, caging them in. She spins around and wraps her arms around his neck before pushing her body as close to his as possible. She can see how much he dislikes dancing. It is written in his eyes. But he pulls her close, hands resting at the small of her back, and soon they are spinning and swaying and grinding like the rest of the room.

She turns in his arms, letting her back rest against his muscled torso. His hands fall to her hips and holds her close, letting their bodies meet. He kisses her cheek and whispers into her ear: “I normally hate dancing, but with you, it’s bearable.”

She chuckles and turns her head just in time to let her lips meet his. There, in the center of the dance floor surrounded by drunk patrons and writhing bodies, they kiss like no one else is around. His fingers trace patterns along her hips, hooking into her belt loops to pull her closer. Soon he’s asking if she wants to come back to his place: a penthouse in a building directly off the Strip that his family owns. And she can’t say no.

She can see in his eyes that he knows nothing will happen. No sex. No silly business. They simply don’t want the night to end and the crowd is getting to be too much for them. They head out and he sends a text to his driver. “Another town car?” she asks with a chuckle.

“Why not?” he says with a wink.

Within moments the car pulls up in front of The Griffin and they are sliding into the backseat. But before she can find a reason to sit in his lap, his phone begins to ring and his brow furrows in worry. “What’s up, Speedy?” he asks as he accepts the call and puts the phone to his ear.

Felicity watches his face as he listens. She knows the name from their conversations about family. _Speedy. Real name Thea Queen. His little sister._

“What do you mean he wants me home as soon as possible?” The annoyance is plain in his voice. Felicity grasps his hand and squeezes it gently, making a hint of a smile return to his lips. “Okay. Okay. Tell Dad I’ll be there sometime tomorrow.” After a few more words, he ends the call and leans his head back, eyes closed.

“What’s going on?” Felicity asks, massaging the top of his hand with her thumb.

“My father wants me back in Starling as soon as possible.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to head home now? I’ll understand,” Felicity offers, soaking her words with sincerity.

He smiles and leans over, kissing the tip of her nose. “No,” he replies, holding her gaze with his own. “I want to spend the night with you.”

* * *

 

She knows sex is not on the table for them tonight. She’s not ready, and she’s still certain he knows that. But as he unlocks the penthouse door and lets her enter before him, she feels the possibility lingering between them, their chemistry and desire palpable. He leaves her in the entryway as he moves to turn on the other lights. Along a shelf against one wall are family photos. Portraits and candids alike.

Oliver as a child chasing a toddler Thea around an expansive yard. Thea smiling brightly behind an ornate birthday cake topped with sparkling candles. A middle-aged couple posing at the sign of their company: Queen Consolidated. These brief glimpses into Oliver’s family make her smile nervously. She wonders when she’ll have the chance to meet them.

“Felicity?” he calls to her from the living room. She follows his voice until she is in the middle of the room, greeted by floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the Las Vegas Strip.

She’s seen the Strip from every angle throughout her life, so often that she doesn’t take it seriously anymore. But from these windows, in this penthouse, with Oliver behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, she sees it differently. She sees the boldness of the neon and the sparkle of the resorts and doesn’t instantly think of the inability of anyone to win a dime. She now understand why her mother hasn’t moved away.

It doesn’t take long for their lips to meet once again, melding together with impossibly intoxicating friction. His hands are in her hair, teasing out tangles. He’s guiding them to the couch, keeping her upright when she stumbles. Any other guy might make her feel embarrassed by the clumsiness, but he simply smiles against her lips and holds her tighter, almost carrying her.

And this is how she ends up in his lap. _Finally._ Straddling him, she sits in his lap and lets her hands glide over his abs beneath his shirt, feeling goosebumps rise along his skin. His hand his drawing patterns along the small of her back, tracing her spine, teasing the skin beneath the hook of her bra. He makes no move to remove any clothing, and neither does she. They kiss and caress and allow the world to fall away.

After a while, he leads her to the bedroom and they collapse tiredly onto the plush comforter. She snuggles into his arms and closes her eyes, head resting on his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of lying in bed with him. Silence follows until she can’t take it anymore. “What’s going on at home?”

He sighs deeply, and she can sense the weight of some sort of responsibility or expectation. For a few moments she assumes he will not answer, but then he clears his throat. “When he demands I come home, it is usually to boast about the company and once again beg for me to join him in running it.”

“What’s so bad about that?” she asks.

He laughs sarcastically. “Nothing apart from the fact that I’m not interested and never have been.” He shifts and she leaves his shoulder, resting her head on the pillow beneath them. He follows, lingering inches from her, one arm draped protectively over her side. “My mother stopped asking me years ago. She might not approve of my career choice, but she can see how happy it makes me. But my father is a whole other story.”

Felicity tries to recall news stories featuring the patriarch. His eyes had always seemed stern and imposing… easily demanding. She tries to imagine having such a man as a father, but with so little experience with fatherly figures, she can’t grasp a picture. But the photos in the entryway showed a different man. A happy man. A man providing for his family. A man proud of the life he built and those he built it for. “While I know you don’t agree with him,” she began, placing a palm along Oliver’s stubbled cheek. “I’m sure he means well.”

He looks into her eyes, a mixture of wonder and annoyance clear in the blue depths, even in the dimness of the room. “Felicity Smoak,” he whispers, letting his lips brush hers. “You need to teach me how to so hopeful.”

With those words, she snuggles close to him, her head beneath his chin and his arms surrounding her with warmth. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off into dreams against the steady beating of Oliver’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! :D Your reviews mean the world and feed my horribly picky muse.
> 
> And don't hesitate to drop me a line elsewhere!  
> Tumblr: arrow-through-my-writers-block.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: @miss_writer


	10. Screen Test & Three Unexpected Little Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for waiting so long to update! NaNoWriMo took over my life in November and it is a good thing too. I won! :D
> 
> Anyways. Here's the next chapter. It is a transitional one, leading to lots of drama. As you will see, there is a time jump. So read, enjoy, comment! Your feedback means the world to me!

[Felicity's bedroom.](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=184276445)

[Felicity's morning outfit.](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_10/set?id=180314843) |[ Felicity's show outfit.](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_10/set?id=180316049)

[Oliver/Felicity's screen test outfits.](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_10/set?id=166060505)

* * *

 

The phone rings, waking Felicity out of a fitful sleep. Her orange tabby cat lets out a muffled meow and hops of the bed, scurrying out of the room. It is dark. It is two in the morning. And her head is still in dream mode. But her phone is ringing, the ringtone she’s set for Oliver blasting at full volume, echoing off her bedroom walls. Sam Cooke’s old-fashioned, heartsick lyrics float on the air, making it difficult for her to not tap her feet beneath the sheets.

_“Cupid. Draw back your bow, and let your arrow go… straight to my lover’s heart for me… for me.”_

The line repeats with each dragging ring until she picks up her cell and answers it. “Are you aware it is two in the morning?” she asks without greeting, feigning annoyance when in reality her heart is racing with excitement. She hasn’t spoken to Oliver in a few days; he has been rushing to auditions and meetings and dealing with family drama.

“I can call back at a more reasonable time, but I figured you wouldn’t mind…” His voice is littered with a pinch of nervousness. Lack of confidence.

They have been apart for almost four months. It is heading into the holiday season and they haven’t been able to see one another outside of video chats, and each one causes her lips to ache for his. She’s grown increasingly aware of the time that has passed; it is beginning to feel excruciating.

“No! No, I am totally fine with you calling me at two in the morning. I mean, I like my sleep but honestly I like hearing your voice ten times more,” she blurts out, sitting up in bed in slight panic. “And, well, apparently my cat dislikes you calling this late. Or early. However you look at it.”

Oliver chuckles. “Ah, I’ve missed your babbles.” She can hear exhaustion in his voice, a deeply rooted weariness that he is clearly trying to ignore.

“Sounds to me like you’re the one who needs some sleep.”

She can imagine him shaking his head ever so slightly. “It’s fine. You’re more important.”

A silence falls after the words. It is the closest they’ve come to saying anything serious regarding one another; the closest they’ve come to that very significant four letter word. She felt it. She felt it deep down. Every single time he calls her heart races, pitter-pattering like crazy in her chest and she feels giddy. Like a child in a candy store. And every single time he says something sweet and even slightly serious, she very nearly blurts out the words. But they haven’t seen one another in four months. Four months that they haven’t kissed. Four months they they haven’t been in the same place. _I wonder if anything has changed between us physically…_

She shakes her head at the thought and sinks back into her pillows, regaining her sleepy comfort. _No. There’s no way…_

“How have you been?” she asks.

“Stressed. Slightly overwhelmed.”

She nods. “Family stuff?”

“Yeah.”

He hasn’t told her what happened back when he had followed her to Vegas other than vague statements involving his father’s expectations, and how wonderful it has been to spend time with Thea between auditions and fundraisers and random galas. Felicity can hear the secrecy in his voice, as well as the worry. But she understands. She doesn’t want to push him into revealing everything going on in his family. She knows it can’t be too momentous or else she would have already seen it all over the news. _The Queens are billionaire royalty. Everything they do is recorded by every news outlet._

“If you need to talk, you know I’m here, Oliver.”

“I know, Felicity,” he says, and she can hear the hint of a smile in his tone. “I just can’t wait until I can be in the same room with you again.”

“Soon,” she responds, counting on her fingers how many days until the screen test for the film. _Two more!_

“Are you ready?”

“To see you or to go in for the screen test?” she asks with a yawn.

He chuckles again. “Both, I suppose.”

“I’m very impatient to see you. And very nervous about the screen test.”

“It’s definitely a good thing that you’ll be doing the screen test with me, then. I can make you feel more comfortable.”

She laughs. She can’t imagine wanting to do anything but have him press her against the wall, letting their lips meld together. Being in that audition feels like an annoying obligation. _Don’t think that way, Smoak! This’ll be your first film! And with Oliver Queen!_

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Just thinking about what I’d rather be doing with you instead of the screen test.”

“Oh, really?” he asks with innuendo heavy in his voice. “And what would you like to do with me?”

Her eyes widen despite how tired she is. She’s not ready to talk dirty. She’s not ready for phone sex. She’s much more interested in the actual thing. _Absence makes the heart and sex drive grow fonder, I suppose._ “I’m awfully tired, Oliver. I’ll see you in two days…”

“Right…” he responds, slightly disappointed. “I miss you, Felicity.”

“I miss you, too, Oliver.”

“Sweet dreams…”

“Sweet dreams…”

* * *

 

She rushes to the set, her hair a mess beneath an old beanie and her travel mug hot and full of coffee that she hasn’t had a chance to sip. Her phone had died after she had fallen asleep, resulting in her phone alarms not going off. _Lucky for me, I have a real alarm clock too._

It is a chilly morning in Vancouver, a light mist hanging over the parking lot. She swings into her spot and jumps out, locking the doors as she runs toward the trailers. Roy is standing beside hers with a grin. “You like shit, Felicity.”

“Good morning to you, too, Roy,” she groans sarcastically as she unlocks her trailer and rushes in. He follows, a clothing bag hanging over his arm and a pair of boots clutched in the other hand.

“Wardrobe gave this to me. You need to be in this and over to make-up right away.”

Felicity takes a drink of her coffee, ignoring the stinging burn that assaults her tongue. “Then perhaps you should leave.”

Roy glances around, then meets her eyes. “Oh. Right.” He drops the boots onto the floor and throws the bag onto a chair. “See you on set.”

She nods groggily and unzips the clothing bag, finding a red pair of skinny jeans and a black sweater scattered with white, hollowed out hearts. She smiles, taking a step back to admire the items as she takes another sip of coffee. _Sometimes it feels like my character has more style than I do._

She undresses and then slips into the selections, the fit perfect, then she stuffs her little feet into the boots, lacing them up slowly. She pulls off the beanie and looks in the mirror. Her eyes are surrounded by dark circles, heavy lidded and bloodshot. Her lips are chapped and hair tangled. She’s a mess, but she doesn’t mind. Soon the make-up team will work their magic and she’ll be a vision of crime-fighting hacker badassery.

She pushes the trailer door open to find Roy standing outside, arms folded across his chest. “You know, this is the third time you’ve arrived late to work. You should probably get a better phone sex schedule.”

“Roy!”

“I understand that you haven’t been together in months, but… I mean… late night phone sex sessions aren’t very conducive to our line of work.”

“Roy! We’re not having phone sex…”

“Right…”

“No, seriously.”

“Then what the hell are you talking about in the wee hours of the morning?”

“We catch up and rant and give one another support. Y’know. Like mature adults,” she answers, leaving the trailer and making her way toward set.

“Mature adults also take part in sexual exploits from time to time.”

“Well, we haven’t.”

Roy grabs her wrist, stopping her. “Felicity. You’re telling me Oliver Queen is willing to do nothing… willing to be sexless…”

“Yes,” she blurts out, then tilts her head, a thought occurring to her. “Well, I mean… I never said he couldn’t, well, y’know… take care of himself. Ugh! Why am I talking to you about this? Drop the subject, Roy.”

Roy holds up his hands in defense, brows both raised and somehow knit together. _How is that even possible?_ “Okay. I’m just confused and slightly impressed. And also a little worried for you. You need sleep, Felicity.”

“And I get sleep, Roy. My phone died in the middle of the night. That’s why I am late.”

Roy shook his head. “Sure.”

They reach set and everyone is waiting, yet no one complains and no one raises any questions. They are in the basement set, surrounded by whirring computer systems and lit up monitors. Her character’s base of operations. Her lair. Her crime-fighting cave. It feels good to be filming on this set; it has been a while since any scenes have taken place in the lair. Now they have a full day there.

Felicity takes a deep breath, leaves her coffee at her chair and then steps into frame, then everyone laughs. “What’s so funny?” she asks.

“Have you gone to hair and make-up yet?” Iris asks, a grin spreading across her lips.

_Damn it!_

* * *

 

The flight to Los Angeles feels longer than it should be, but she uses it to get a little sleep. She wants to be at her best for the test. She wants to be at her best for Oliver. She wants to be at her best for herself.

Once leaving the airport, she drives to one of numerous office buildings in the downtown area and parks in the underground parking garage. She checks her mascara and eyeliner in the mirror and then gets out of the car, locking it as she walks to the elevator. Felicity can’t help but imagine that moment in the elevator with Oliver, back in San Diego months ago, all frantic kisses and lingering touches begging to move elsewhere. She leans back against the mirrored wall and sighs with a smile.

She’s been told to go up to the tenth floor and to wait outside room 103. The elevator doors whir open and she exits, finding the hallway beyond dimly lit, the windows at each end not enough to brighten the entire floor. There are doors on either side, set into deep doorways filled with shadows. If she believed in the supernatural or anything remotely similar to horror films, she might assume this hallway would be the place of her death.

But she moved forward, confident and excited. And a little nervous. _It’s okay to be a little nervous. Confident, but understanding that this is a big deal and slightly terrifying._

She passes one doorway and then suddenly feels a hand grip her own, tugging her back into the shadows. Within seconds, a pair of lips framed with stubble crush against her own and the smell of the woodsy, manly cologne wafts over her. She melts in Oliver’s arms, eyes closed and lips moving against his.

She has imagined the moment she’d be with him again, after so many months apart, and she suddenly realizes that her imagination isn’t as creative or vivid as reality. She can feel the beating of his heart beneath her hand where it rests at his chest, and the gentleness of his hands as they come up over the small of her back, hugging her closer. As close as they can get. And when he breaks the kiss, she can feel the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, his breath fluttering against her nose, minty and intoxicating. “Felicity,” he whispers, somehow pulling her closer and nuzzling against her hair.

“Oliver,” she responds just as quietly, pressing her face against his chest, taking in his warmth and his scent and everything she has missed over the last few months. His voice over the phone is nothing compared to it in person, whispered into her hair with his arms wrapped around her. Protectively. Romantically.

They remain there for a few moments, basking in one another’s warmth and affection, oblivious to the slight passing of time. Enough time has passed, keeping them busy and apart. Then Felicity lifts her head, looking up at him through her lashes. Shadows are cast across his face, but somehow she can still see the lovely blue of his eyes. Eyes she’s longed to see up close for months; eyes she’s longed to see up close ever since the moment they parted ways in Vegas. “We should get to the screen test, don’t you think?” she asks.

Oliver kisses her forehead and nods. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

She giggles as he pulls her out of the doorway and the stride down the hall, hand in hand. They get to room 103 and Oliver knocks on it three times with a cheery flourish. The door opens to reveal a petite asian woman with a wide smile. “Oliver! So good to see you!”

Oliver’s hand slips away as he goes in for a hug, the tiny woman engulfed by Oliver’s size. Then he turns and addresses Felicity. “Felicity, this is Tatsu, co-writer and co-director of the film.”

Felicity’s mouth drops and she reaches out to shake Tatsu’s hand, but then the woman goes in for a  hug. “Nice to meet you, finally!” Tatsu says.

“Nice to meet you,” Felicity responds, eyeing Oliver awkwardly. He chuckles.

They part and everyone moves into the room, greeted by another person. An asian man with long hair and a serious expression. “Hi,” he says simply. Oliver lets out a little cough of warning and then the man adds: “I’m Maseo. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Smoak.”

“I’m assuming you’re the other writer slash director?” she asks, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Yes.”

They all stand silently for a few moments, staring at one another or empty spaces between. Then Tatsu clears her throat. “So, we should get to the test. I assume you’re both well-acquainted with the scene we chose?”

Felicity smiles and jumps a little in place. “It’s my favorite scene, actually,” she admits.

“Mine as well,” Oliver says, twining his fingers with Felicity’s.

“Fantastic,” Tatsu beams, clapping her hands and rushing to a camera to check focus and battery. “Then let’s get started.”

They all prepare. They discuss the purpose of the scene in the narrative and for the characters. They run through the events leading up to the scene and how those events impact the characters to react the way they do. Oliver admits that he’s memorized the scene; every line and every movement. Felicity smiles. _As have I…_

Then he moves to the center of the room and crouches down, head bowed and eyes closed. Exactly as his character is described in the script.

Felicity squares her shoulders and takes a deep breath, then walks over, her lines waiting on her tongue. She kneels in front of Oliver and pushes him down. “Lay back,” she orders, voice layered with worry and the feelings that her character has been developing over the course of the script.

“I can’t. I have to fight.” He struggles to remain up, alert, awake.

“You’re done fighting,” she reminds him, pushing against his chest. Oliver winces, then groans. “Trust me, Peter. You’re done fighting.”

“I could have done so much more. For my family. For my friends. For you,” he continues through the pain. Felicity is in awe of the transformation Oliver has made, fully becoming the mafia leader Peter. _I’m nowhere near as good as him…_

“Shh…” she quiets him, pretending to clean and bandage wounds, hands trembling.

“I could have lost you, Ana.” Oliver shoots up, his hand reaching for her cheek, desperate and shaking from weakness. “I could have lost you.”

Felicity looks into Oliver’s eyes, into those blue depths, imagining them in a dimly lit mansion, bloody garments thrown across the floor and strips of bandaging strew across his weak legs, waiting to be wrapped around his torso. “You are not going to lose me. You would never let that happen.”

They look at one another again, this time drawn in further, gazes locked and the intensity of that truth heavy between them. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers, his voice low and pained and panicked. His hand remains at her cheek and she lets herself lean into it, pressing it more firmly against her skin. Her hands hesitate over his chest and stomach, feigning a hold on bandage. Then she meets his eyes and it all comes crashing around her.

The intensity of the scene and the feelings that have been building up between them in reality. The feelings they have been unable to act on from a distance. The separation destroying their patience. She leans forward, dropping the imaginary bandage to place a hand atop his and the other against his cheek. “Oh Peter, you will not lose me,” she murmurs, lips mere inches from his. Then she closes the gap, letting their lips brush. She initiated the kiss. She lets the moment linger. She lets her character be in control. Then, as they part and their foreheads press together gently, she speaks. She improvises. “I love you.”

Silence falls. Oliver’s eyes stay locked with hers, a puzzled glint in the blue depths. The room is heavy with everything whirling around them and then Maseo clears his throat. “And… uh… scene.”

They break away and stand up. Felicity looks to Tatsu to find her eyes sparkling with moisture and her mouth dropped in shock. Maseo is as stoic as ever, but she can tell he’s impressed. Oliver rests a hand at the small of her back. A habit she’s enjoying.

She realizes she just said the words that had remained unspoken between them for months. Words that she’s been afraid to utter over the phone or through video chat. And perhaps the excitement of seeing him screwed with her mind, forcing the words out, or maybe the scene demanded the extra line. But she knows one thing: those words were not only being spoken as Ana…

_Did I just say that…?_

* * *

 

They walk to a little coffee shop to share a muffin, hands clasped together, fingers knotted. They discuss the upcoming filming, her show’s progress and ever growing popularity. She asks about his family and the drama that has been keeping him busy.

“There’s always drama with my family. I’ve told you plenty about my father’s expectations and my mother’s attempts to side with both of us.” He shrugs off the subject then, changing it to Thea. “Speedy… I mean, Thea… She’s been dealing with a lot, but she’s been so supportive. I just wish none of this were an issue.”

His vague answers hurt Felicity slightly. She knows the specifics will come out, that something within him will crack and the waters of his stress will overflow. She has her theories, all of them reminding her of the differences between their two worlds. “Hey,” she exclaims, shooing all of the negativity away. “Let’s just enjoy this muffin. We don’t have much time left before I have to go back to Vancouver.”

He smiles and nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

They pinch off bites of chocolate chip muffin one at a time, chatting in between. She discusses the direction her show is going. The twists and turns. He discusses some of the auditions he’s done, all of them with no results. “It appears this film is gonna be my only job for a while,” he says through a mouthful. “But that’s not so bad. I’ll be working alongside you.”

She blushes. _Charming warlock…_

He takes a sip of his coffee and then leans in. They are seated on the same side of a booth, his arm wrapped around her. He kisses her temple. “I have a question for you.”

She turns slightly and glances up at him. “Shoot.”

“Would you like to spend Christmas with me… in Starling?” Before she can answers, he keeps speaking, nervousness adorably taking over. “I owe you a slice of pizza from my favorite pizza parlor and my family throws the most extravagant Christmas party in the city. I’d love for you to be there.”

She’s beaming, heart racing at the thought of being on his arm amongst Starling City’s upper crust. Him in a suit. Her in a gown. The suspenders hidden beneath his jacket. The possibility of spending the night with him again. She reaches up and kisses him, letting her excitement pour out. “I’d love to,” she says against his lips, in the same way she said those three important words during the screen test.

“Excellent.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? What do you think will happen during their Christmas in Starling City? 
> 
> Follow me places:  
> twitter: @miss_writer  
> tumblr: arrow-through-my-writers-block.tumblr.com


	11. 8 Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you so much for your support of this story! It is so fun to write and your enthusiasm is such an amazing motivation! Keep it up! You feed my muse like crazy!
> 
> Also, I've added [Starstruck Bonus Content](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5380748/chapters/12427739)! Check it. Subscribe to it. You'll regret it if you don't, I promise you! :D

[Felicity's Outfits.](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_chapter_11/collection?id=4850883)

* * *

 

 

Felicity walks through her front door, her orange tabby cat sauntering over in greeting and the reality of things begin to set it.

_I said I loved him... I said that... As me... it had to be me._

She runs through everything in her head. The words already written for the scene. The feelings they had both been expressing for months without being spoken. The kiss in the hallway. The words she blurted out, initially to add to the scene. To improvise. But then, she felt them. Knew they were true. And she saw them reflected back at her within his eyes.

_Why didn’t he say them back?_

Doubt creeps in as she tosses her keys onto the counter and drops her backpack by the door. She picks the cat up, rubbing behind his ears. “Why must this be so complicated, Milo?”

The cat glances up at her, beginning to purr, slow blinking.

“Aw, I love you too, Milo.”

She stands there for a bit, giving Milo much needed attention, then hears her phone ding with an e-mail notification. She drops Milo - who pads away on his soft paws - and then digs her phone out of her back pocket. She opens her e-mail and finds one with an attached file from Oliver. She chuckles to herself and then opens it.

_Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah, right? Your first gift can be viewed within the file attached. However, we must Skype while you watch it so I can see your reaction. -Oliver_

She scrolls down to find the file and shakes her head at the name.

_firstaudition.mp4_

She rushes into her living room and opens her laptop, booting it up while she goes into her bedroom and changes into comfy leopard print pajama pants and a bright pink top, then slips into a pair of slippers. She makes herself a cup of tea and then sits in front of the computer, her Menorah waiting to be lit.

She signs into Skype and then connects with Oliver.

“Hey, beautiful!” Oliver says as soon as he glimpses her. She narrows her eyes and sees that he’s wearing pajamas too - green and red plaid pants and a dark gray henley. He’s in his living room, the fireplace glowing behind him. She wishes she were there, cuddled next to him.

“Hello, handsome,” she responds. “So I’m supposed to watch your first audition tape?”

He nods with a smile. “You’re always saying that you embarrass yourself too much and that I’m all suave. Well, here’s my chance to embarrass myself in front of you. I’ve never shown anyone this except Tommy - he’s only seen it because he helped me film it.”

“Your friend helped you film this?”

He nods once again. “I got this horrendous script for an indie horror film, so I figured I’d send in an audition tape for the lead role.”

“You didn’t let your agent set something up for you?”

He shakes his head, cheeks beginning to flush a subtle pink. “No. No, I was an idiot back then.” When she remains silent, he leans in, rolling his eyes. “Okay, I’m still an idiot quite frequently. Especially when Tommy is involved.”

She nods. “I’m sure. Will I be meeting Tommy on this trip to Starling?”

“Without a doubt.”

“You make it sound like this is already being planned,” she says with a raised brow.

“In a way, yes.”

She tilts her head in question but he does not elaborate. “I guess I’ll find out soon.”

“Yes, you will. Now get on with the cringe-inducing audition.”

She opens the file, puts both windows side-by-side and then clicks play. Oliver’s hair is longer in the video… almost boyish, and he has a cocky smirk on his lips. “Hello,” he says, voice deep in an attempt to be sultry and sexy. “My name is Oliver Queen…” Then he waves the comment off with a slight chuckle. “But, of course you know that.”

Felicity presses pause, laughing. “Oh my god, Oliver. Really?” She glances at him - present him - to find his face bright red and his brows scrunched together.

“I know… I know…” he groans, covering his face with one hand for a moment. “It was bad. I wish I could say it gets better, but that would be a lie. It gets worse.”

“Do I have to watch more?”

He jerks his head up and frowns. “Yes. Yes, you do.”

She nods and then presses play, continuing on into cringe-territory. _Who would have thought he was once this bad…_

“I’m reading for the role of Austin, the male lead. _Obviously._ ” In the background, Felicity hears a chuckle, clearly from Tommy. Oliver glares at him before continuing, face shifting into tough and brooding. “If you want to die alone, be my guest. But I’d suggest coming with me. I can protect you. I can keep you alive. And my arms can do more than destroy flesh-hungry zombies.”

Felicity watches, unable to look away from this younger version of Oliver. This version of Oliver who tries too hard and is full of pathetic gimmicks. She thinks about his most recent films, finding the contrast between these two men so stark. So mesmerizing. She wonders how long it had actually taken for Oliver to hone his craft, shifting it from such ridiculous beginnings to everyone’s most requested leading man.

The clip ends with Oliver shouting at Tommy to shut the camera off.

She closes the file and leans forward, taking a sip of her tea. “Well… that was… something.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“I’m glad I didn’t know you back then,” she says with a wink.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t find me irresistible if I were that guy?”

She nods. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I’d say I’m hurt, but it doesn’t surprise me.”

“You’re much better now, I think.”

He smiles, eyes bright and trained on her through the screen and vastness of the internet. “I agree with you.”

They remain silent, simply watching one another. The crackling of the fire behind him draws her in, relaxing her after her long day in airports. Milo hops onto the couch and curls up next to her, tail flicking back and forth in content - he’s glad to have her home. After a few more moments, she grabs a match and lights the center candle of her Menorah. Then she lifts it from its spot and lights the first candle, murmuring the blessings beneath her breath. When she’s finished, she glances back at the screen to find Oliver smiling.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “Just admiring you.” His gaze is intense, reading into her, studying. Then he chuckles. “You bite your lip when you’re concentrating. Did you know that?”

Her face grows warm with a deep flush. “No,” she answers. “I didn’t.”

“It’s adorable.”

They chat for a while about nothing in particular. Their schedules. Hints at the other gifts he plans on giving her for each day of Hanukkah. Potential plans for the trip to Starling City. It all bleeds together in her head as she goes back to their screen test and the words she blurted out. _Should I say them again? Now? Just to give him affirmation? To be sure? Or should I wait for him to say the words?_

“I need to get going, Felicity. I have a lot of things to do before bed,” he says, lips turned down into a frown. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

“Goodnight, Felicity,” he says, then logs out.

For a moment, the world feels empty without his face.

* * *

 

She comes back to her building from a long day on set, grocery bags dangling from her wrists as she digs her keys out of her purse. The hallway is cold and her hands are even more so. As she tugs the keys out, her trembling fingers loosen and the keys fall with a jangling clatter to the floor. “Lovely,” she groans, then bends down to retrieve them. But she finds something else. Something foreign. Something surprising.

A velvety box tied with a sparkly green ribbon. A note rests beneath the bow with Oliver’s handwriting begging to be read. She picks up the box, then her keys and unlocks the door, struggling with the abundance of bags and objects she’s handling.

She goes straight to the kitchen, the bags beginning to cut off circulation. She drops everything on the counter and then looks for Milo. He’s napping on the couch. He lifts his head for one moment, meows a simple, quiet greeting and then returns to his slumber.

Felicity stares at the box, heart hammering in her chest. He wasn’t lying about getting me something for every day of Hanukkah. She undoes the bow and folds it neatly beside the box, admiring the sparkles. Then she looks at the note, smiling at Oliver’s neat handwriting before reading it.

_Because I think you should have one by now… why not give you ten that are edible? -Oliver_

The words puzzle her. She opens the box quickly and laughs at the contents. Ten Emmys. Ten chocolate Emmys with golden dust sprinkled atop them. Felicity licks her lips, feeling conflicted. “Do I eat them or put them up on my mantle?”

* * *

 

Felicity is on her way to set, the sky darkening. She’s carpooling with Iris, chatting about nothing in particular as the streetlights begin to flicker on, bathing them in warm glows with sporadic darkness. Her phone begins to chime, signaling an alert for a video chat. She smiles.

“It’s Oliver, isn’t it?” Iris asks, nudging Felicity’s arm with a giggle.

“Yes,” she answers, blushing.

“Take it! I’ll pretend I don’t hear a thing.”

“Yeah, sure you will,” Felicity says, rolling her eyes as she accepts the call.

The connection comes up and the camera is facing a sign that says:

_Your Gift For Night 3!_

Music begins to play, familiar and completely cheesy. But she smiles, tapping her feet to the beat, waiting impatiently for the lyrics to sound.

“Oh my god, he is not…”

“He is…”

Then Oliver appears, sign discarded as the voice of Eric Carmen sings through the phone to her. _“I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve got this feelin’ that won’t subside.”_ Oliver is lip syncing the song, face red with moderate embarrassment and his movements awkward. But his eyes are bright. With each line, he stares out at her, pointing and swaying his hips with the music. Then the chorus hits. _“Now I’ve got you in my sights with these… hungry eyes.”_ With the final two words, two people - a guy and a girl -  pop up beside him, imitating background singers. Felicity giggles.

_This has to be Tommy and Thea…_

_“One look at you and I can’t disguise I’ve got… hungry eyes. I feel the magic between you and I.”_

The song continues, all the way through, every line and every beat. Iris pulls into the parking lot, singing along excitedly. Once she parks, she leans over and watches, laughing with Felicity at the adorable absurdity of the whole thing.

When the song ends, Oliver comes closer to the camera and grins from ear to ear. “Have a good night on set, Felicity!” And then he ends the chat.

Felicity stares at the empty screen, unable to move. It’s silly. It’s slightly obnoxious. But she can’t help but love it. She can’t help but love him. _There those words are again!_

* * *

 

It is Felicity’s day off. She’s enjoying a small marathon of a new show on Netflix, lounging on her couch with Milo on her lap purring. It feels like an eternity since she has marathoned a television show. She’s about to start a new episode when a knock comes from the door. Milo jumps up, stretches and slowly moves to the opposite end of the couch, glaring at Felicity as she goes to open the door.

It’s a FedEx delivery guy. “Hi! Felicity Smoak?”

“Yes?”

“Please sign,” he says with a wide smile as he hands her a tablet to sign. She scrawls her signature onto the tiny screen and then hands it back in exchange for a small box. She shakes it, then sees the label on the side that proclaims the contents to be fragile. “Crap.”

She kicks the door shut and goes back to her place on the couch, tapping her thumbs against the cardboard anxiously. She cuts at the tape and opens it, pulling out an object wrapped in bright pink tissue paper. A note is attached.

_One of my favorite memories. -Oliver_

She rips at the paper to find a picture frame hidden within, occupied by a photo of them from one of her autograph signings in San Diego. She remembers the interaction. She had fought to keep her word-vomit in check and he had smirked at her the entire time, flattering her and making her blush. Then he had asked if they could get a photo together and handed the phone to one of the many security guards keeping the crowd and lines in check. They had smiled. They had gotten closer. She remembers admiring his cologne, as she still does. She remembers his warm hand patting hers before he walked away with a wink.

_One of my favorite memories, too, Oliver._

_ _

* * *

The next day, before leaving her apartment to run some errands and meet Iris and Roy for lunch before filming, a knock sounds at her door. The same delivery guy. He grins. She signs for the package and then closes the door.

“Oliver, seriously. This is getting a little excessive,” she murmurs as she rips the box open to discover a container of homemade chocolate chip muffins. They take her back to that morning in Vegas, before they parted ways. He had made her breakfast, including chocolate chip muffins he had made from scratch.

She pinches off a bite and savors the moist, chocolatey flavor. Then her phone chimes. She checks to find a text from Oliver.

**Oliver Queen: I hope you’ve gotten those muffins… if you haven’t then my instructions to FedEx were not adhered to.**

_-11:22am_

She types her message out with one hand as she nibbled on the muffin.

**Me: They arrived a few minutes ago! Thank you!**

_-11:23am_

His reply comes in soon after.

**Oliver Queen: Anything for you. Enjoy, and have a great day.**

_-11:23am_

* * *

 

The next day, he simply calls her. He tells her how excited he is for her to come to Starling. He tells her how much he misses her. He tells her how excited Thea is to meet her and how annoyed she was to be included in his _Hungry Eyes_ video chat.

“That was amazing, Oliver. Weird? A little. Hilarious? Definitely. But amazing.”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through the phone against her ear. It is infectious and soon she joins in.

“What are you doing right now?” he asks after they cease their fits of laughs.

She looks around. She’s reclining on her couch with a book in her lap, waiting for Iris to arrive so they can carpool to set again; the whole cast is so happy to be done with the early morning shoots. “Just reading before heading to set,” she answers. “What are you doing right now?”

“Reading through the script,” he says, and she can hear the rustling of pages in the background.

“Don’t you know it by heart yet?”

It is meant as a joke, but Oliver doesn’t laugh. “Almost,” he answers, completely serious.

Intimidation sets in, reminding her of that split second before she had delved into the scene for the screen test, when all of her insecurities and nervousness almost overwhelmed her. Then it trickles away as she reminds herself of one thing. _I almost have it memorized too. I have more lines from that film memorized than I do for the show._

“Any word on when we’ll be starting production on it?” she asks.

“After Christmas, I think.”

“What?” The time frame terrifies her. She gets a break from filming the show soon. She gets a break from stardom for a while. Now it seems she won’t.

“We still need to discuss it with your agent and the producers on your show, but they would love to begin filming a few days after Christmas. Just for a couple weeks.”

The idea terrifies and excites her. The idea of only having the week and half in Starling City before moving onto the film, and then back to the show, is huge and almost overwhelming. But she can’t deny how impatient she is to work with Oliver. She can’t deny how impatient she is to see him every single day. _Working. Living within reach._ The whole image in her head is enough to send her heart thudding, threatening to break out of her chest. “That sounds fantastic,” she finally says, afraid she left him hanging too long.

“Great!”

* * *

 

Felicity is studying the script when a knock sounds at the door. “Oh my god, another gift? I thought he was joking!”

She storms over to the door and opens it to find the same delivery guy. He’s holding a small box in his hands, but he hands her the tablet. She takes it brusquely, lips pursed.

“Is this guy a stalker or are you actually in a relationship?” he asks as she thrusts the tablet back into his arms.

“He’s my boyfriend,” she answers, unable to keep her annoyance in place when the words - the title, the label - leave her lips. She smiles. “He’s getting me gifts for each day of Hanukkah.”

“Oh, that explains it then!” He hands her the box. “Happy Hanukkah, Miss Smoak!”

“Thanks,” she says as she closes the door.

She rushes back to the couch and rips the box open, finding a velvety jewelry box. She snaps it open to find a pair of glorious earrings. Diamonds and gold in the shape of dangling arrows. On the inside of the lid is a post-it with Oliver’s writing etched into it.

_Bring these to Starling with you. -Oliver_

She stares at the earrings for what seems an eternity, terrified of how much he might have spent on them, but imagining what his reply to that question might be:

_“It doesn’t matter. Anything for you, Felicity.”_

* * *

 

Felicity leads Roy and Iris up to her apartment after the show’s Christmas party. They are making fun of the different crew members’ drunken antics and speculating whether certain people might be hooking up. When they reach her floor, they find the path to the door blocked by dozens of arrangements of red roses.

The floral scent wafts through the hallway, tickling her nose.

Roy coughs. “Dude needs to learn what moderation means.”

Iris nudges Felicity excitedly. “Seriously, Felicity, who knew Oliver Queen was such a sweetheart.”

“Creepy, possessive weirdo sounds more accurate,” Roy scoffs, stepping around the arrangements with exaggerated movements.

“It’s sweet, Roy,” Felicity says, making her way to her door to find the largest arrangement topped with a note. “I can’t complain.” She reads the note with a smile, Iris coming to her side and peeking over her shoulder.

_I’m flying you to Starling City in style. Meet me at the below airport tomorrow. 9am. -Oliver_

The airport he lists is a small private one located in a town outside of Vancouver. It isn’t far. It isn’t far at all. She jumps up and down. “I’m going to Starling City in a private jet!” she shouts.

“How are you gonna thank him?” Iris asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“I know one way you could…” Roy says, voice trailing off, leaving the comment open to interpretation. Iris and Felicity each slap one of his arms. “What? Just a thought…”

They come into the apartment and begin dragging in all of the roses. Once they are all sitting around the living room, Felicity stares at them, spinning in circles. “This is insane.” Milo saunters over, weaving in and out of the arrangements, poking his head into one. He jerks his head back, ears twitching, and sneezes. She pats his head comfortingly before he sneaks deeper into the collection, a forest of roses for him.

“And kind of a waste if you’re not gonna be here to enjoy them,” Iris admonishes, leaning down to inhale the fragrance.

“Wanna stay here and cat-sit for me?” Felicity asks, half joking.

“Sure!” Iris says, perking up. “Well, at least until Christmas. But I’ll make sure he’s taken care of then. And I'll make sure all of these are watered.”

“I don’t think I can hang here tonight, guys. Those roses are a bit much on my allergies,” Roy calls from the kitchen. They join him, standing around the counter. Felicity pours them each a glass of wine and they toast to the holidays.

They sip the wine in silence, listening as Milo continues to explore the vast collection of arrangements, occasionally sneezing. Then, suddenly, Iris gasps. “I’ve got it!”

“Got what?” Roy asks, brow raised.

“I know what you can do to thank him for the roses!”

Felicity and Roy stare at Iris, waiting. “Do tell,” they ask in sync.

“Do a lip sync video chat like he did.” Iris smiles broadly, swishing her wine around in her glass as she nods. “We can be your backup.”

“Excuse me?” Roy shakes his head, eyes wide. “Don’t volunteer me for something that ridiculous.”

Felicity throws up a hand excitedly. “I know the perfect song too!”

* * *

 

****[The earrings.](http://www.polyvore.com/meira_diamond_14k_yellow_rose/thing?context_id=13959830&context_type=user_fav&id=146963679)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna know what song Felicity chooses? Find out soon over at Starstruck Bonus Content! Told you that you'd regret not subscribing? ;)
> 
> Also, let me know what you thought of this chapter! Your comments feed my muse and bring me loads of smiles!


	12. Introductions & Proclamations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOODNESS! The response to the last few chapters has been AMAZING and I am so grateful to all of you for your continued support of this story! To think that this started out as a humble little tumblr prompt and has catapulted into the monster it is now... like, damn! THANK YOU THANK YOU!
> 
> This chapter ended up being a lot longer than I expected, hence it being posted so much later than normal. But I hope you enjoy. Some very important things happen... y'know... *winks*
> 
> Don't forget to leave comments. Your feedback is so important to me! <3

[Felicity's Outfits.](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/collection?id=4862944)

* * *

 

 

Felicity gets out of Iris' car at the airport, the morning sun bright and the air warmer than it has been all week - still cold, but bearable. Oliver is waiting for her at the small entrance, hands plunged deep into his coat pockets and a wide grin spread across his lips. He's nervous, she can tell. He's swaying from side to side, a sign of his nervousness. She waves before pulling her luggage out of the trunk and his grin stretches into a full on smile, brilliant in the glowing morning.

Her impatience kicks in and she runs to him, arms already reaching for his broad shoulders and longing for his arms, protective and warm. He bends his knees slightly just before she jumps up and wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up like she weighs nothing. _With his muscles, I probably don't even register to him._

He presses kiss after kiss onto her cheeks, then moves his lips to hers. They are slightly chapped from waiting in the brisk breeze, but they feel amazing back against hers. _It's been a week and yet it feels like an eternity,_ Felicity thinks to herself as they break apart and he drops her with a quiet clap onto the tiled entrance of the airport. _This can't happen again,_ she decides, digging her hand into Oliver's coat pocket to join his.

He gestures for two men to grab her bags from the curb, politely. She says goodbye to Iris, enduring awkward eyebrow wriggles and quiet proclamations of how cute the two of them are.

He chuckles as they turn away.

"What?" she asks.

He shakes his head, then looks down at her. Beaming. Excited. _Such a sap._ "I'm just so happy you agreed to this."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"My family... I suppose."

Then they enter the airport and he leads her through and out double doors onto a runway where a Queen Consolidated private plane is waiting for them.

"To be fair, I haven't met them yet," she says with a gentle nudge, teasing. "Ask me how I feel about the whole thing tomorrow."

His eyes crinkle at the corners and the sight warms her heart. Oliver smiles often, but not to that intensity. Felicity is absolutely certain that he's excited for the trip now. "I'll be sure to do that," he says as he motions for her to go up the stairs and into the plain. He follows closely behind, hand pressed at the the small of her back. Even through layers of clothing, his touch causes her tummy to flutter. She smiles at the sensation as she steps into the plane.

It is dim within, shades drawn down over the windows and overhead lights set low. As her eyes adjust, she sees the luxurious details within the plane. A small mini bar. Comfortable, reclining seats with forest green throw pillows. And, on a rolling tray, two cups of coffee and a chocolate chip muffin.

"Are you trying to fatten me up?" she asks with a laugh, pointing to the tray.

Oliver chuckles. "Have you already eaten?"

She nods. "A bowl of cereal."

"Well, I'll take the muffin then since I waited for you before eating."

"Oh. Oops."

He leans down and plants a kiss onto her cheek. "Don't stress, Felicity. More for me," he teases with a wink.

They eat and drink as her luggage is brought in and the fuel is replenished. Then they buckle up and take off. It is an hour long flight to Starling City, a fellow Pacific Northwest city.

"Okay," Oliver begins as the plane levels out in the sky. "What shall we talk about?"

She answers immediately. "Tell me what I should be prepared for with regard to your family."

His smile fades slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Do's and don't's. Things they enjoy. Little quirks. Anything."

He thinks about it for a while. Thoughtfully. Seriously. Critically. The furrow of his brow gives away the intensity of his contemplation. He meets her gaze and his eyes soften, revealing the blue depths she adores.

"Thea is a handful. She's talkative and obsessed with fashion and completely sweet," he explains, beaming. The love he holds for his sister is so bright and genuine, warming Felicity's heart. "Don't call her Speedy though. She hates it. That's why I use the nickname."

"Okay, so talking points are fashion and-"

"Anything. She holds great conversations regardless of the subject."

Felicity nods. "What about your mother?"

Oliver sighs. "She's pretty cold. Judgmental. Let her lead the conversation so she feels comfortable."

"Okay, so listen for points to join in, answer questions and don't take control." _Keep the word-vomit at a minimum, Smoak!_

Oliver laughs. "No. Word-vomit all over the place."

"But you just said-"

"To let my mother be in control of the conversation. That doesn't mean you can't give long-winded answers to her questions."

Felicity raises a critical brow, studying him. "But won't she hate that?"

"I want her to see the real, genuine you. I'm sure she'll love you after the initial awkwardness wears off."

They are seated side by side, hands locked together. She leans her head against his arm, enjoying his warmth. "What about your father?" she asks, patting their interlocked hands with her free one.

She can feel his body stiffen, closing off and becoming rigid. It causes her heart to sink slightly. _How much discord has there been between them?_

He takes a deep breath and then lets it go slowly, calming his inner demons. "My father..." The tone of his voice is tight, just as edged and rigid as his body. "He's colder than my mother. He takes longer to warm up to people since he's all business and money."

She snuggles closer. "Is that why you have such a hard time with him?"

She glances up and sees him nod.

Felicity closes her eyes, imagining his pain his gone, replaced with all the happiness he had possessed before the conversation started. Then he clears his throat. "Just be yourself. Be you. Don't worry about him. But if you know anything about vodka, that might make him more interested."

Felicity scrunches her nose. “I know absolutely nothing about vodka.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss the tip of her wrinkled nose. “Then don’t worry about.” When she continues to show her nervousness, he pulls her closer. So much closer, their faces inches apart. “Felicity, their opinion won’t change anything between us.”

She nods. “I know-”

“Felicity,” he says as he narrows his eyes and she giggles. _How does he know me so well?_  “I’m serious.”

“I know. I know.”

He presses his lips to hers and all her nerves change from being on edge to be set loose within her, scattering her tummy flutters throughout her body, charging her veins. His hands pull her forward, into his lap, and his tongue sneaks into hers. She feels everything with a greater intensity. His hands. His lips. His tongue. His muscles beneath his clothes.

She grins against his mouth as his hand moves to slide beneath her shirt, squeezing and massaging her sides just above the waistband of her jeans. Somehow she knew the flight would turn into a make-out session, and she doesn’t regret a thing. She allows herself to dive into it, finding the pieces of herself she had been missing in his absence.

* * *

 

His penthouse in Starling City is at the top floor of one of the tallest buildings she’s ever seen, yet somehow her fear of heights is subdued knowing it is his home. His place. His space. Staring out the floor to ceiling windows is dizzying, but the view is gorgeous, chasing away the tiny pinpricks of fear that fight to overcome everything.

Felicity feels his arms wrapping around her as she’s standing there, and his breath is against her neck. “Go get dressed,” he whispers, leaving gentle kisses against her jawline.

“I am dressed,” she breathes, angling her head to give him more access to her neck and jaw. He obliges her with a few more kisses.

“Something a little fancier, Felicity,” he murmurs against her skin. “Brunch with my sister and mother in a half hour.”

She groans slightly. “Do we have to?” She turns in his arms and wraps her own around his neck. She looks at him, his blue eyes trained on her. “I mean, I wanna meet your family but… well…”

He chuckles. “I know…”

“So?”

“We’re still going to brunch.”

She rolls her eyes and rolls her luggage into the guest room. She lifts a suitcase onto the bed and begins digging through until she finds the dress she imagines will impress the two women who have been in Oliver’s life the longest. A pink and black dress, color blocked with regular fabric and leather. She rummages through her small pouch of jewelry and picks out a pair of earrings and then grabs a pair of heels.

She changes and untangles her hair before putting it up into a messy side bun, then leaves the room.

Oliver is waiting for her in the living room, hands in the pockets of his slacks. They are black and tight, reminding her of all his muscles… muscles she has yet to see up close, lines she has yet to cross and trace. His navy blue sweater is luxuriously tight at his chest but slightly hidden beneath his jacket. He smiles at the sight of her, taking her in. She blushes, unable to help it. He looks at her like he’s seeing her for the first time, every time.

“You ready?” he asks.

She nods. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He chuckles and helps her into her coat with a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t worry, they’ll love you.”

They exit the penthouse and get into the elevator, bringing her back to the moment in San Diego. That moment when she had almost lost control, almost given in. She glances up at Oliver and she senses that he’s thinking about it too. He wraps his hand around hers and tugs her closer, his other hand reaching to caress her cheek. But he does not bring their lips together. He does not start anything. He simply looks into her eyes, studying, reassuring her, speaking what he cannot articulate with spoken words.

Those three little words linger unspoken between them. Spoken by her, but potentially misunderstood. She wants to say them again, to see his eyes light up even more at their recitation. But they get caught in her throat. _Not here. Not now._

He finally lets his lips brush against hers, his thumb tracing a circle along her cheek as her eyes close.

And then the elevator ceases its descent and the doors open, ending the moment. But he keeps his hand wrapped around hers, guiding her out into the building’s lobby and out into the cold Starling City day.

It is cloudy, threatening rain. The ground is wet from the morning mist that she assumes had shrouded the streets before the temperatures rose. She looks around, waiting for a town car to pull up, so used to Oliver’s preference, but then he leads her to a Porsche sitting along the curb, silver and pristine. He opens the door and gestures for her to get in. She smiles. “You’re driving today?”

“Surprised?”

“Slightly.”

He laughs as he shuts the door, rounding the front of the car to his side, then sliding in next to her. He starts the car, letting the engine rumble while he watches her for a moment.

“What?” she asks, feeling self conscious, lifting a hand to check her hair.

“You’re so beautiful.”

She blushes once again and then they are off, speeding through the streets of Starling City. Sections are beautiful while others are rundown. _A typical big city,_ she thinks to herself.  They leave the crowded city and move into the suburbs, finding sprawling homes the size of five of her mother’s and then out into golf course territory. She’s not used to it. She’s never lived near golf courses and she’s certainly never been on one. _Unless mini-golf counts…_

 

They turn onto a small private drive leading to a large metal gate manned by security guards in a little hut. They leave the hut when Oliver pulls up. “Hey, guys!” he greets them with a wave.

“Oh, Mr. Queen,” one mumbles while the other presses the button to open the gate. “Go right in.”

Oliver nods and then pulls through the gate to continue on the drive, now shrouded with towering trees. “This is a country club, isn’t it?” Felicity finally asks.

“Yes. My parents are obsessed with keeping connected with the upper crust of the city’s society, so country clubs are a necessity.” She watches his expression as he says this, noting the annoyance. “But, hey, good food.”

She smiles, squeezing the hand that has slowly made its way over to rest on her knee.

They pull out of the trees and the clubhouse comes into view, larges and commanding in front of the rolling hills of the green golf course beyond. In front, creating the roundabout for the valet, a fountain stands vigil, spraying lines of water from the arrow of a poised archer with glorious wings. He parks the car and allows the valet to take the car.

Oliver helps her out of the car, then leads her up the steps and into the clubhouse through large double doors. Within, a giant Christmas tree stands sparkling in the center of the lobby. A staff member collects their coats and then they are walking into the restaurant, hand in hand. In a booth at the far end of the room, she glimpses an older woman with a stern gaze, lips pursed, watching them intently. _Moira Queen…_

Next to her is a young woman with a bright smile and curled brown hair. _Thea Queen…_ She waves to them, scooting out of the booth to greet them.

“Ollie!” she exclaims, disturbing older patrons in the booth across the aisle from them. “Felicity!”

She rushes to them and throws her arms around Felicity without preamble, without introduction, instantly giving Felicity a sense of belonging. When the embrace breaks and she moves to hug her brother, Felicity studies both of their faces. Oliver is beaming and Thea is smiling broadly. Then her gaze turns to Moira, who is still seated in the booth, sipping water from a tall glass, brows raised. She’s appraising Felicity, looking her over with critical eyes. Oliver leads them forward, wrapping his arm around Felicity as he gestures toward Moira. “Felicity, this is my mother, Moira.”

“Hello,” she mumbles, bowing her head slightly in respect, unsure whether to reach out for a handshake or to curtsy. You don’t curtsy. _She isn’t royalty._ But as she waits for Moira to speak, she gets the distinct feeling that Moira might label herself as royalty… Starling City royalty.

“Hello, Felicity,” Moira say finally, coldly with a respectful nod of the head. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hopefully only good things,” Felicity blurts out, nudging Oliver in the side playfully. Thea giggles and Oliver chuckles, but Moira simply stares, disinterested with the comment.

Oliver leans his face down next to Felicity’s ear then. “Sit down, Felicity,” he whispers, and she nods quickly, moving to slide into the booth, followed closely by him. He moves his hand to rest on her knee once more, occasionally squeezing it comfortingly, reassuringly.

“It’s so lovely to have you in Starling City for the holidays, Miss Smoak,” Moira says as Thea sits next to her once more.

“Felicity,” she suggests with a wave of the hand. “Just call me Felicity.”

“Well, _Felicity,_ it is very lovely to have you with us. We hope to make you feel at home here.”

“I’m sure you will,” Felicity assures, reaching out and grasping the glass of water in front of her, taking a sip to clear the nerves that are once again building up in her throat.

Oliver clears his throat. “She’s not staying at the mansion, Mom,” he says, eyes never leaving his mother’s, challenging.

“Why ever not?” Moira asks, offended.

Felicity turns her eyes to Oliver, watching the expression on his face. The light in his eyes. She can imagine the words flying through his mind, fighting to be let loose. She settles on one sentence she likes most. _Because he doesn’t live there… so we’d be apart._

“She’s staying with me… in my penthouse,” he finally answers.

Moira’s eyes narrow and her lips part slightly, preparing to speak. But then the waiter interrupts them, asking for if everyone is ready to order. They order drinks and then remain in an awkward silence. Felicity glances up to find Thea watching her. They exchange small grins and Thea rolls her eyes. then mouths, _“She’ll get over it… eventually.”_

They get their drinks and then some appetizers. The silence fills quickly with the clinking of silverware against plates. Then Thea blurts out: “So, I was there for that video chat.”

Felicity’s cheeks warm and Oliver brings a hand up to cover his face. “Oh,” Felicity says, pushing food around with her fork as she tries to grasp at words.

“I was wondering if you were gonna invite Roy Harper here for New Year’s Eve…”

“Thea…” Oliver scolds lightly, then shakes his head.

“What?” Thea asks, glaring at him. “I’m a huge fan of your show, Felicity, and I adore Roy. I’d love to meet him!”

Felicity smiles and nods. “I’ll see what I can do,” she answers.

Oliver kisses her cheek, then whispers: “You don’t have to.”

She shrugs in response and then turns her attention back to Thea’s raving comments about the show and her theories about the second half of the season. Then the conversation shifts to fashion… to the glorious wardrobe her character has. Oliver chuckles through the exchange while Moira rolls her eyes, filling a glass with a bottle of wine she ordered with her meal.

Felicity glances away, feeling the intensity of Moira’s disinterest. Oliver squeezes her knee and she looks up at him. His eyes are bright, loving and encouraging, saying so many things. He makes the rest of the brunch bearable.

* * *

 

They follow the town car Thea and Moira reside in to another towering metal gate. It opens and they drive down a long, gravel road. Then the mansion comes into view. Old stone covered with Christmas lights and garland, windows lit with glowing warmth. Oliver parks the Porsche next to the house and gets out, rounding the car to open Felicity’s door for her.

They enter the home, the foyer loaded with boxes of decorations and incomplete arrangements for the annual Christmas party. Thea bounces with excitement. “Wanna help us with some of the trees?” she asks.

Felicity grins. “Sure…”

“Speedy, I have to give her the grand tour first,” Oliver says with a wink.

Thea crinkles her nose in disgust. “Please, Ollie… don’t have quickies all over the house. I still live here, y’know. I need to be able to survive without wondering whether a surface has been inappropriately christened by you two.”

Felicity lets out an embarrassed laugh but Oliver brushes the comment off, tugging her away down a hallway.

“I mean it, you two! No quickies!”

They hear Moira shushing Thea with a stern word, clearly just as embarrassed as Felicity is. But Oliver doesn’t bat an eye. He simply moves them along the hallway without more than a chuckle. His hold is tight, fingers locked with hers and she struggles to keep up with him in her heels. But then he’s opening a door and pulling her inside. A library, dimly lit and full of the scent of old volumes bound in leather. His hand leaves hers and moves to her waist, the other following to grasp the side of her face as he pushes her against a shelf, lips crashing onto hers.

It is intense. It is spontaneous. It is everything she enjoys about kissing Oliver Queen. She lets her hands linger against his chest, feeling the soft sweater stretched along his muscles, covering his hammering heart.

Their lips move and meld, tightly pressed together. His tongue teases hers, unable to remain captive within his mouth. For a while, they remain that way. Then he moves his mouth to her neck, kissing and nipping the warm skin. “Oliver,” she moans out, breathless. “Grand tour… no quickies.”

He chuckles against her skin, sending shivers up her spine. “But…”

She pushes away from him. She doesn’t want to. She can’t believe she’s doing it. But she pushes away from him and skips to the door. “Grand tour please…”

He frowns then nods. “Okay… So this is my father’s study and the family library.”

Her eyes widen. “Your father’s… Oliver!”

“What?”

“We… I… Oliver!”

He rolls his eyes and takes her hand, leading them back into the hall. “Don’t worry. He’s not home. He’s at the office… as usual.”

They go from room to room on the first floor, then go up the stairs to the second floor. Oliver ignores all of the doors, his steps purposeful. Felicity’s arm aches from being dragged around, but she can’t complain. She’s seeing aspects of his life with each room he presents to her. She takes everything in with a smile.

He finally stops in front of one door and grins. “I present to you, the room of my old self.”

He lets her open the door and she steps in. The blinds and curtains are opened wide, letting in the light from the cloudy day outside. It appears that room hasn’t been touched in years. The sheets are bunched up, the bed completely unmade. The nightstands are covered with bottles of liquor and the floor scattered with clothes. “They didn’t clean up the room when you left?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“It’s like you died.”

“Yeah… I have no idea what they are expecting. I’m not coming home.”

The sound of adamance in his voice and the rigid set of his shoulders tells her many things. He finds this display of the past ridiculous. He’s offended by his parents’ obsessiveness. He’s proud of the life he’s made for himself. She walks over and wraps her arms around him, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heart, now calm and steady. “I’m glad you’re not the guy that used to live here.”

At the words, he wraps his arms around her and they remain that way for a while, letting the silence envelope them in a shared peace.

* * *

 

“Are all the lights connected?” Oliver asks from his place at the other end of the room. It is a large dining room, cleared of furniture but for tables lining one wall, waiting to be topped with hors d'oeuvres and other goodies served at the upcoming party. Felicity puts the finishing touches to a sparkling arrangement in the center of one table as Thea gives Oliver a thumbs up.

He crouches down and plugs an extension cord into the wall. The room lights up with glimmering Christmas lights, the tree at the center glowing and sparkling with expensive ornaments Felicity had been terrified to handle.

The whole room takes her breath away as she makes her way around, admiring each detail. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Oliver watching her with a wide grin. Her cheeks warm as she turns away to find Thea fixing one crooked ornament.

“I think we did good,” Felicity says with a decided nod.

Thea chuckles and nods in return. “Definitely! Thanks for your help, Felicity.” They high five and then a knock sounds at the other end of the room.

They all turn to see an older man in the doorway, eyes taking in the display of Christmas cheer. His face is muted, lacking emotion, but his eyes are beaming. _So that’s where Oliver got that talent…_

“Looks like we’re ready for the party tomorrow,” Robert Queen says as he steps into the room, one hand in his pants pocket and the other holding some papers. He comes to stand in front of Felicity, eyes boring into hers, making her fidget. “You must be Felicity Smoak.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oliver won’t stop talking about you,” Robert says, taking his hand out of his pocket to hold it out to her. She shakes it, feeling the firm business-like grip. “And I can see why…”

“Dad,” Oliver chides, coming to Felicity’s side. “No flirting…”

“Not flirting, Oliver. Just observing.”

Felicity clears her throat. “Mr. Queen, it is so good to finally meet you.”

They exchange a few more pleasantries and then Robert excuses himself, murmuring complaints about paperwork and other such things.

As they go around the room, checking that all of the decorations are secured to their chosen surfaces, Felicity thinks about Robert Queen. The man she just met seems nice, friendly… nothing like the man Oliver has described. He was charming. But the tenseness that seemed to fly between Oliver and his father was almost palpable. Oliver’s arm around her had been almost possessive. Protective. It made her hands shake a little. _What’s happened between them...recently?_

* * *

 

They come back to the penthouse tired after a deadly meal with Thea at Big Belly Burger. Oliver leads them up the stairs and the hallway between his room and the guest room. Her luggage is in the guest room, across the hallway from his. She knows she’s not sleeping away from him. She knows that’s not the plan. But somehow, she feels like the distance is final.

He kisses her cheek and then moves to his bedroom, leaving the door open as he kicks off his shoes and begins to pull his sweater over his head, exposing his bare back. The muscles. The moving muscles. _No fair._

Felicity goes into the guest room and begins rummaging through her bags for a pair of pajamas. From the other end of the hall, she can hear a shower starting, water hitting the floor before swirling down the drain. She peeks out the door to find Oliver walking around the room with a towel wrapped around his hips. Her heart begins to hammer. _Is he mad that I didn’t have sex with him at the mansion?_ she wonders, hugging a pair of pajama pants to her chest in an attempt to calm herself. _Did I do something wrong?_

She shakes her head. “You did nothing wrong.”

She hears his bathroom door shut and makes her move. She zips up her luggage and carries each bag across the hall and into his bedroom. It is simple. Plain, yet expensive, furniture and deep green walls. One wall floor to ceiling windows revealing the nighttime skyline.

The sound of the water running sends her mind reeling. She sits on his bed and slips her heels off before placing them in one of her bags. She takes off her earrings as she begins to pace the room and then drops them onto his dresser. She glances up at the mirror above the dresser, finding her face pale with nerves. “Stop it, Smoak!” she murmurs to her reflection. She lets her hair fall loose around her shoulders and then glances up again. “You can do this!”

She unzips the back of her dress, letting it loosen until it sags and drops into a pile on the floor at her feet. She steps out of it and contemplates removing her underwear; the black bra and matching panties. Then she shakes her head. “Nah, he has to work a little bit,” she decides.

She inches toward the bathroom, her steps silent. She opens the door carefully, quietly, and steps inside. The room is billowing with steam and she finds the glass walls of the shower beside the jet filled tub fogged over, hiding the details of Oliver’s body. But she can see his silhouette, strong and erotic, on the other side. She traces it with her eyes, admiring everything she has seen and everything she hasn’t. Then she feels slight panic.

_Do I just stand here and wait for him to come out? Do I sit on the counter? What do I do?_

She keeps debating and then the shower turns off. Her heart stops. For a moment, she imagines him looking out and seeing her, standing by the door like an idiot. But he doesn’t look out. He simply opens the door and reaches for the towel hanging from a hook next to the shower. He steps out of the shower as he’s drying his face in the depths of the towel, the fabric lengthy and covering his body at all the points she’s interested in.

She uses the moment to take a step forward, away from the door, and calm her features. She fluffs her hair and then he’s removing the towel from his face. When his eyes open, they instantly meet hers. “Felicity,” he breathes out as he takes her in. Her nearly naked form causing his typically bright eyes to darken. His lips part. His eyes linger on her breasts, then her hips. In any other situation, she might feel like she’s being examined, critiqued. But here, in Oliver Queen’s steam shrouded bathroom, she feels admired. She feels cherished. She feels loved.

And desired. So very desired.

The towel hangs loose in his hands, brushing against his skin. She takes in each line and edge of his body, the broad width of his shoulders, the way his hands tremble around the folds of the towel. He's impossibly gorgeous and impossibly hers. _How did this happen to me?_

She closes the distance between them and yanks the towel away, revealing everything that had been hidden from her moments before. His body is everything she has imagined, and then some. Feeling him over his clothing was not enough to draw up a clear picture, but now she sees it all. And she's not disappointed.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to hers, and she can feel the heat of the water he had just been drenched in moments before. "Is there something I can help you with, Miss Smoak?" he asks, voice low and raspy, pupils wide and dark.

She shrugs. "Perhaps."

"Yes...?"

She finds his hand and places it at her hip, his thumb grazing the waistband of her panties before hooking just beneath it; his other hand follows suit. She lifts her own hand to touch his damp cheek, the stubble prickly against her hand. So sexy.

Her other hand begins to trace patterns along his body. Over his chest. Over his stomach. Over the intoxicating points of his hips. His breathing quickens and his fingers dig into her skin. She smiles, meeting his gaze from beneath her lashes, and then they hit her again, causing her to look away. Those three little words. Those words she spoke in the heat of a moment that wasn't real, wasn't them. Those words she spoke and never mentioned again. Those words she wants to blurt out now but can't seem to bring out. _It would be too clichéd now..._

"I love you," Oliver murmurs against her ear, voice steady and so sure and so genuine. She jerks her head back to meet his gaze. His eyes, still so dark with desire, show a glint of light and romance. "I should have said it that day... at the screen test. I should have said it countless times since then. But you seemed so in the moment... so in character that I wasn't quite sure. I should have known. I should have said it. Should have told you how I feel lo-"

"I love you, Oliver!" she exclaims, letting her lips crash against his. For a moment he doesn't reciprocate, and she doesn't blame him. He's naked. She's nearly naked. And they both just said those three little yet epically important words to one another. It is a lot to take in.

But he recovers his composure quickly and is soon kissing her back, hard and longing and loving and intense. He pulls her close, their skin colliding for the first time. The hardness of his muscles against the softness of her curves.

His hands rise up from her hips to her back, tracing the line of spine until the fingers of one hand close around the clasp of her bra. He unhooks it in one quick flick of his fingers. Show-off...

He pulls the bra free and tosses it aside, lips never leaving hers and she's grateful for that. Grateful for the contact. Grateful for the words being spoken. Grateful for his body pressed against hers, vibrating with need that mirrors her own.

And then he's lifting her up, hands cupping her thighs just beneath her ass and she presses her bare breasts against his chest, his warmth intoxicating. She basks in it as she locks her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

He carries her out into the bedroom, the lights from the surrounding skyscrapers trickling in and giving the room a dim glow. As he lays her down, she admires his body more, eyes lingering on the most obvious evidence of his arousal. And then her previous title for him fades away and his replaced. _Not a warlock... a god. Or the inspiration for the paintings and sculptures of the gods. Just not a warlock..._

He lingers over her, her legs still wrapped around him. She blushes as he gazes down at her, lips swollen from their kisses. He never looks away as his hands trail down her body, massaging all the right places until her tummy is tight and her core is aflame with the desire they both cannot keep contained any longer. He raises his brows in question and she knows instantly what he's asking. "It's safe," she breathes as she brings his lips back to hers. "On the pill," she says against his lips, unwilling to let them separate again.

And then they connect. Bodies melding into one. Hearts bursting with those three little words. Lips kissing and nipping and allowing their panting breaths to mix together, all with each caress and thrust.

Their names escape into one another's mouths as they are breathed and screamed with each overwhelming bout of pleasure.

And once they collapse into a sweaty, exhausted tangle of limbs, their eyes remain locked, gazes connected as their bodies were just moments before. Felicity smiles, and Oliver follows suit, eyes crinkling in the corners in just the way she likes. The way they do only for her.

“I love you, Felicity Smoak,” he whispers as he kisses the tip of her nose.

“I love you, Oliver Queen,” she whispers back with a giggle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?
> 
> Also, you can follow me:  
> tumblr: arrow-through-my-writers-block  
> twitter: @miss_writer


	13. Dark Uncertainties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the really long wait for this chapter. I have no idea what happened to me, but the words were not flowing and nothing seemed to work. But here it is! I truly hope you enjoy it! It has really been a struggle to write this chapter and it is such a relief to finally give it to you guys! Thank you for waiting so patiently for it!
> 
> Don't forget to leave comments! Your feedback means the world! <3

 

[Felicity's Shopping Outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_13/set?id=184836670) | [Felicity's Party Outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_13/set?id=184760238)

[Thea's Shopping Outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_13/set?id=184837417) | [Thea's Party Outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_13/set?id=185486852)

[Oliver's Party Suit](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_13/set?id=194030539)

* * *

 

 

She squints against the morning light streaming in through the windows, so reminiscent of their morning in Vegas months ago. But this time, once her eyes have adjusted and she can tell it is actually rainy outside, she realizes Oliver is still beside her. Watching her. Smiling at her. She returns the smile and snuggles closer to him. Their skin meets and the warmth lights a fire within her. She breathes in the scent of his skin and sighs. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs into her hair, brushing his fingers over her skin, tracing shapes. His voice is low and husky, full of his sleepiness.  _ Lord knows we didn’t really sleep... _

“Good morning.”

They stay locked in the embrace for a while, exchanging kisses and sweet-nothings. Their legs tangle and then their kisses change intensity until she's looking up at him, her legs locked around his waist. "This is a good morning, indeed." The twinkle in his eye as he moves his hips lightly makes her giggle.

They remain like this, teasing and kissing and laughing, for a while. Drinking in everything they had missed. Everything they neglected for so long.

And then Oliver's phone buzzes against the surface of the nightstand. He groans, pressing his forehead against hers, unwilling to leave his place above her. She pushes him. "Answer it," she says, adding more disappointment to the words than totally necessary.

He falls onto the mattress, right next to her, and rolls to grasp his phone. "Speedy!" he answers with a chuckle. "Now is not the time." Then he's suddenly scooting closer to Felicity and holding the phone between them, hitting the button to change it to full speaker. "Okay, Speedy..."

"Felicity!"

"Thea!" Felicity answers with the same enthusiasm, brows rising and her eyes darting to Oliver. He shrugs.

"We're going shopping today, Felicity!"

"We are?"

There's a scoff on the other end of the line. "Of course! Oliver showed me those gorgeous earrings he got you. Now you need a gorgeous dress to go along with them!"

"For the Christmas party," Oliver whispers with a grin when Felicity gives him another questioning glance.

"Okay," Felicity answers. "When?"

"Now? I'm on my way over to the loft as we speak."

Felicity squeaks in surprise as she jumps out of bed. Oliver cuts the call and chuckles. "What?" she asks, eyeing him in exasperation as she rushes around the room.

"I could get used to this," he says.

"Get used to what, exactly?"

"You," he says, gazing at her, eyes trailing up and down her naked body. Shivers run through her spine at the intensity of his admiration. "You running around in a panic with nothing on. It's quite a sight to behold."

"An embarrassing sight," she says, rolling her eyes as she digs through her suitcase for an outfit. Then she feels his hands slowly sliding around her waist and his arms enveloping her in warmth.

"Not embarrassing, at all," he whispers into her ear, the breath hot and intoxicating. "I'd say incredibly sexy."

He spins her around in his arms until she's facing him. She looks up into his clear blue eyes to find them dark with longing, and her breath hitches. "Now is not the time, Oliver."

He leans forward and plants a kiss onto her nose before bringing one to her lips, deepening it as soon as he feels hers moving against his in response. "Now's the perfect time," he murmurs against her mouth as he moves them towards the bathroom. She shakes her head and he chuckles against her lips. “Yes,” he hums.

“Oliver…”

“Felicity…”

His voice is full of complaint but she breaks away from him. “I need to get ready. And I’m really not in the mood for your sister to find me naked in your room.”

He mumbles something as he begins to straighten the sheets.

“What was that?”

He blushes slightly and she can’t help but grin. “It wouldn’t be the first time she’s found a naked woman in my room.”

“Gross.”

Oliver shrugs. “I didn’t say I was proud of that fact.”

"Still gross," she says with a wink as she slips into the bathroom. Then she feels his warmth behind her as she starts the shower. "What do you think you're doing?"

His hands rest on either side of her hips and she feels his lips gliding over her bent spine. "Joining you," he replies against her skin. It sends shivers through her body and fire to her core.

"Oliver, what did I say?"

He releases her from his mesmerizing clutches and then she spins to face him. He's wearing a big eyed, ashamed pout, like a scolded puppy dog. She fights back a giggle. "No sexy times?" he asks.

She nods. "Correct. We have no time."

His pout grows and she loses control and begins her giggles. "I can't just join you to wash up?"

She narrows her eyes and shakes her head slightly.

"Felicity, I won't do anything."

She reaches in and checks the temperature of the water.  _ Perfect. _

She steps inside and nods. "Okay. But as soon as you're clean, you leave," she says, pointing at him with an air of scolding. "But you can stay and talk if you'd like."

"Fantastic!"

He steps into the shower after her, his hands gripping her waist to steady himself as he closes the shower door. His fingertips are cold compared to the warmth of her skin soaked in water, and she shivers at the contact. He leans in and kisses her cheek, lingering there for a moment before grabbing a loofa and his bottle of body wash. And then she realizes she forgot her own products. She raises a hand and palms her forehead.

“What?” Oliver asks, brow raised as he squeezes a slight amount of blue body wash onto the loofa.

“I didn’t bring in my body wash. Or loofa. Or shampoo.”

“You can use mine,” he replies, lathering up the wash and then gently tracing the sponge over the skin of her back. She can smell the fragrance of him - woodsy and manly and so totally him.

“But now I’ll smell like a man,” she protests, but then she leans back into his caressing movements and lets the lather coat her body.

“You make anything smell sexy, Felicity.” The whisper is right there, breathed into her ear and she melts into him further, cursing herself for allowing him into the shower with her.

She lets out a moan, unable to stop it in her relaxed state. “Maybe right now is the time…”

 

* * *

 

 

They descend the stairs of the loft to find Thea perched on the kitchen counter eating an apple fritter. “Well, well, well… looks like the lovebirds have finally decided to grace the world with their presence,” she teases, motioning toward the bag beside her, along with a carrier with three coffees. “I almost tossed these offerings for the wait. I mean, really… there’s a time and place for sex, Oliver. And it is not when your sister is minutes away.”

Oliver chuckles and reaches into the bag, pulling out a second apple fritter. He offers it to Felicity. She takes it greedily.  _ Warlock in everyday situations. Warlock in bed. Warlock in the shower. Makes a girl ravenous for all sorts of things. _

Oliver digs out his own fritter and bites into it, eyes closed. Then he chews for a moment before speaking around the pastry in his mouth. “So what am I supposed to do while you two make the Starling boutiques more profitable?”

Thea takes a sip of her coffee and shrugs. “I don’t know, Ollie. Maybe spend some time with dad? Go out with Tommy?”

Felicity nibbles at her fritter and watches the two siblings with interest. She knows how much Oliver cares for his little sister, and she can see it as he pokes fun at her choice of donut shop and the absurd amount of cream and sugar she poured into each coffee. It is something she has always been fascinated by, and now she sees it in such a personal way. Almost a part of it, yet not completely.

“Felicity,” Thea begins, interrupting her brother’s teasing. “What type of dress are you planning on wearing tonight?”

Felicity gulps down her bite and shrugs. “No idea. I didn’t think I was really gonna have to buy something new.”

Thea’s mouth drops and eyes widen. “Of course you need something new. Something gorgeous. Maybe slightly sexy.” Then Thea’s eyes widened even more. “Oh, I have some ideas now…”

Felicity shifts her gaze to Oliver to find his face in his hands and a smile peeking out, cheeks bright red. She can feel her own skin warming up with the embarrassment. “I’m sure I don’t need anything extravagant, and I certainly do not need anything too sexy.”

“Oh… you do. Trust me.”

“Thea…” Oliver growls from behind his hand in warning.

“Ollie…” Thea mimics.

Felicity claps her hands and grabs her purse. “Okay! Let’s get this over with!”

 

* * *

 

The boutique is cluttered with rack upon rack of dresses, all of them full. Every dress is well over Felicity's usual budget, but Thea insists that Oliver is taking care of the expenses and that she pick out whatever she likes most. “He demanded that,” Thea explains as Felicity eyes the price tag on a particularly gorgeous emerald gown.

“But these are…”

“Pricey?”

Felicity nods. “You could say that.”

Thea tugs the dress away and rolls her eyes. “Ollie is seriously not worried about it, Felicity.” She swings the gown around and then shakes her head. “You can do better than this one!”

“You think? I mean, people say I look pretty good in green.”

Thea forces the dress onto the rack and then spins around to face Felicity once more. “Do you wanna look  _ pretty good _ or do you wanna look  _ gorgeous _ and  _ sexy _ for my brother?”

Felicity glances down at her gray flats and shrugs.  _ I doubt Oliver cares whether I’m clothed or not.  _ “I suppose you’re right,” she says instead, shifting some hangers aside to get a glimpse at a bright red number with a low neckline. “I can probably do better…”

They peruse in silence for a while until Thea gets a phone call and escapes out the shop doors. Felicity watches discreetly from behind a rack, pretending to examine dresses when she’s really attempting to read lips. She deciphers some names and a lot of interrupted sentences, but context is lacking and she soon gives up. She pulls a dress off and holds it next to her body, the luxurious fabric caressing her fingertips. The cream and deep burgundy floral embroidery excites her, and soon she’s imagining Oliver’s hands grasping her curves and lifting her leg up so he can sneak his fingers beneath the fabric.

“Sorry about that!” Thea proclaims as she comes to Felicity’s side, interrupting the daydream and the heat that was slowly trickling through her body. “Oh, well isn’t that gorgeous…”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah. I think you need to try it on!”

Thea grabs a dress of her own and they sneak back to the dressing rooms. They slip into curtained cubicles side-by-side one another and giggle as they force their clothes off. Felicity pulls on the dress in record time and looks at herself in the mirror. She’s rarely in extravagant apparel, and she’s never had a reason to wear a gown. And this gown hugs her in all the right places, just as she imagined moments before. She slides her hands over her curves, admiring every inch of the gown and her own body housed within.  _ Is this how Oliver sees me? _

“Y’know,” Thea begins suddenly, “This party is gonna be quite the event. There’s been so much angst and disagreements that I’m so ready for a good time!”

“Disagreements?” Felicity asks, latching onto the word and hoping for some insight.

She isn’t given much. “Yeah. Oliver and Dad aren’t exactly friendly these days - haven’t been for years, honestly - but lately it seems to be a lot more tense and awkward. Luckily they toned it down yesterday for you.”

Felicity forces herself out of the dress and begins tugging on her outfit. “What are they so hostile about?”

A silence falls between them and the uncertainty wafting in from the other side of the curtains is almost palpable, sending a fear through Felicity’s mind. She’s known since her time with Oliver in Vegas that something was going on, and being in Starling has given her even more confirmation of that fact.

“Ollie hasn’t told you?” Thea finally asks.

“No. He typically makes excuses. Family drama. The usual hostility. But I can tell there’s something else going on, and I hate mysteries. They have to be solved.” She zips up her pants and slips her feet into her shoes and exits the cubicle, dress draped over her arm.

Thea pokes her head out from behind her own curtain, a frown etched onto her face. “I wish I could tell you, Felicity. Truly. But this isn’t my drama to tell.”

“Can you at least give me a hint as to what’s going on?”

The tone of her voice is strained and full of impatience and worry. Nothing is different between her and Oliver, but the stress radiating off of him daily is evident even in the most carefree moments.

Thea watches her for a few moments, then shakes her head. “Our father is a complicated man, and that’s putting it lightly. Things haven’t exactly been going his way and he’s putting a lot of strain on Oliver. That’s all I can really tell you.”

Felicity lets it go, understanding that Thea is adamant about allowing her brother to explain everything himself, to be open and honest. So they pick out shoes and accessories, letting the tenseness of the topic fade away. They leave the boutique with instructions to charge it to Oliver Queen’s account and have the purchases sent to his penthouse.

Then they walk the streets of Starling City, exploring little shops and basking in the sunlight. “This kind of sunny day isn’t typical around here,” Thea points out as they stop at a small city square featuring a decorative fountain and benches. They take a seat and watch the world pass them by. “Clouds are the norm here.”

“So I’ve heard,” Felicity answers. “And it can’t normally be this warm in the winter…”

“Never.”

They sit in silence for a while and Felicity gets a text from Oliver.

**Oliver Queen: How’s the shopping going? Pick out anything scandalous? ;)**

_                                                -12:46pm _

**Me: Was I supposed to?**

_                                                -12:46pm _

**Oliver Queen: The world would expect it from me.**

_                                                -12:47pm _

She rolls her eyes at his words, imagining his past and the numerous flings he must have had with models that were all legs and no substance, scantily clad and perfect on his arm. She began to type her reply.

**Me: I suppose it is time to show them a brand new you - Oliver Queen, the mature serious actor with a mature serious actress girlfriend.**

_                                               -12:49pm _

After a few moments, he texts back and she giggles.

**Oliver Queen: Who says we’re mature?**

_                                              -12:50pm _

“I know you guys are totally head over heels and can’t get enough of one another, yada yada… but this was supposed to be a girl’s day,” Thea says with a playful nudge.

“Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. You two are just so sickeningly cute.”

After a few more minutes of people watching, they grab lunch at a little cafe on the corner of square, spending the span of the meal chatting about nothing in particular but enjoying the simplicity. Felicity can feel her phone going off in the purse at her lap - a constant surge of texts from Oliver that she refuses to fawn over.  _ He needs to relax… _

As they leave the cafe, Thea is all giggles.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have one more stop for us to make before we go back to the penthouse…”

“Okay?”

“And you’ll probably be really embarrassed by it, but we’re going in and you’re buying something there.”

Felicity raises a brow and grins. “What kind of place is this?”

“It is of the  _ sexy _ variety…” Thea teases as they turn a corner and continue walking to the end of the street. No other hints are given and Felicity begins to feel nervous.

 

* * *

 

The penthouse is empty of noise when they arrive, but the bags of dresses and shoes and other goodies are scattered next to the door just inside. Oliver is gone. The fireplace is dark. Felicity frowns slightly, disappointed that Oliver isn’t there to greet her or to make it difficult to get ready.

“Hey,” Thea exclaims as she walks into the kitchen and reaches the refrigerator, “Ollie left you a note!”

Felicity rushes over and finds a simple sheet of paper hanging from the fridge by an adorable heart magnet. Oliver’s pleasant and clean handwriting is slanted along the paper, battling the lines. She smiles as she reads it.

_ I’ll see you at the party - I know you’re going to look gorgeous and I can’t wait to spend this evening with you! Love, Oliver _

Thea giggles and nudges Felicity a little, knocking her off balance. “You’ve turned my brother into a total sap.”

“Are you sure he wasn't already like that?”

Thea nodded. “Very sure. He has never acted like this before.”

They move on to drinks and unpacking all of the bags. Sorting through their purchases is no easy task, but they manage to in record time, giving them a few hours to get ready for the party. Thea fawns over Felicity's dress again, caressing the fabric and swishing the gown around. Felicity is happy with the gown, especially paired with the gold heels.

As she curls her hair, she attempts to imagine all the potential interactions she may have at the party. She knows for certain she will find herself face to face with Moira once more, fighting against the clear annoyance and disappointment she is sure to see written across the mother's face. She wonders if she will fail miserably or if she is strong enough to combat the matriarch.

Felicity ponders the enigma that is Robert Queen.  _ He can't possibly be as scary as everyone makes him out to be…  _ she thinks as she begins applying a light layer of powder to her face, evening out her complexion.  _ There has to be more to it. It can't be all bad. _

She hopes Oliver has invited Tommy Merlyn. The famed best friend and hilarious sidekick in all things, she was most excited to meet him…

She lines her eyes with a thin layer of eyeliner to create a simple cat eye, shimmering cream shadow creating its base. Then she applies mascara to her lashes and then lifts her curls into a messy cluster at the back of her head. Tendrils hang loose against her neck, framing her face and drawing attention to her ears. She looks down at the velvety box on the bathroom counter, eyeing it with a strange level of wariness she doesn't quite understand. She opens the box, the lid creaking as she lifts it, and is met with the loveliness of the diamonds sparkling in the vanity light… like little twinkling points of light within dangling arrows. She presses a finger against the stones, polishing them with her fingertip.  _ This might be the most expensive thing I own. _

Finally she works up the courage to put them on, letting them dangle from her earlobes to mingle with her golden curls. Her eyes drift up to her reflection and she doesn't recognize the woman staring back at her, shrouded in luxurious fabric and accessories she has only ever dreamed of owning. Oliver’s world has collided with hers and she is at a loss for words.  

“You're breathtaking, Felicity,” Thea says from the doorway, looking just as breathtaking in her deep blue, based gown. “Oliver isn't gonna know what to do with himself.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.“

They make their way downstairs and gather their clutches, double-checking their makeup and hair in the mirror before leaving the penthouse. The floor to ceiling windows provide the only light in the silent space - the sky is dark, leaving the city to make its own light. Felicity takes a deep breath, feeling the tightness of the dress against her body and instantly pictures Oliver’s hands. She shakes her head.  _ Not now… not now… _

Once they reach the ground floor of the building, they are greeted by an elderly driver that opens the door to a black limo. “Oliver’s idea?” Felicity asks as she slides in beside Thea.

“Of course.”

They listen to random holiday songs as the limo takes them closer and closer to the mansion, closer to Felicity’s source of nervousness. Clearly sensing the tenseness, Thea pours Felicity a glass of champagne with a grin.

“Lighten up,” she insists as she pours herself a glass. “This is supposed to be fun.”

Felicity nods, knowing that’s the truth. But deep down, she’s still out of her element - playing a part in a world not her own. She should be used to it.  _ This is my damn job!  _ But somehow she feels lost without Oliver nearby and as they draw closer to his location, Felicity’s nervousness grows into anxiousness. Her element in Starling City is him - Oliver Queen, the ex-playboy turned amazing actor and total sap.  _ I clearly have a problem… _

They turn onto the long gravel drive, tires crunching the ground as they zoom forward. Felicity looks out the window and catches sight of the mansion and her heart flutters. It is adorned with millions of twinkling golden lights. Every surface. Every window. Every column. All wrapped and draped, festooned with the lights and the luxury of the party becomes all too real.

They pull up behind other cars lined along the path, slowly moving forward to allow each guest to be dropped off at the entrance of the mansion in style. Felicity wonders if there will ever be a point when she’ll get used to the special treatment the Queens are so accustomed to.  _ Probably not… _

Finally they reach the front steps and a valet opens the door and helps both of them out. They straighten their gowns and then move to the front door behind dozens of others. As they wait, Felicity glances about, admiring the intricate details of the mansion’s facade and the decorations. Then she hears it. She hears him. Oliver. His voice is floating on the breeze and the murmuring of other guests. He’s greeting each person at the door alongside his mother and father, gorgeous in his tux and that smile with the mole just at the corner. Felicity fights a sigh that threatens to escape her.

They reach the front of the line and Moira’s eyes linger on Felicity, studying her. She’s so critical and serious that it dampens Felicity’s spirits and brings her nervousness back. “Ah, Miss Smoak, lovely of you to join us,” Moira finally says, her eyes then darting to Thea. “You could have gotten the two of you here on time…”

“We’re not  _ that _ late, mother,” Thea says, low and embarrassed, as she steps forward and takes her place beside her mother.

“Not that late is still late, dear.”

Felicity hears Robert Queen speak to his daughter and hears Moira groaning, but her attention falls onto Oliver. He’s gazing at her. Full on gazing. No distraction. Nothing can take his eyes away from her, and his lips are turned up into his signature smirk and her tummy does a little flip at the sheer adoration he’s showing. And then she sees the darkening of his eyes, the love mixing with lust in a dangerous combination and he’s nodding his head toward the door, suggesting they go inside.

She takes the hand he offers her and then they sneak away, barely enough time for Felicity to greet Robert before they are racing through the crowded mansion and into a darkened hallway, on the way smiling at those they pass.

Once in the shadows around a corner, Oliver presses her against the wall, his body shielding her, arms wrapping around her gently but with so much intensity that her heart stops and the flipping of her tummy ceases. “Hi,” he murmurs against the curls resting against her left cheek, breath tickling her skin and sending goosebumps across her body.

“Hi,” she answers, voice tremulous as his hands fall to caress her hips - the same way she imagined him doing the moment she decided to purchase the dress.

“You’re gorgeous.”

She glances up at him and their eyes lock. Her hands slide up her body and then she reaches for him, unbuttoning his tux jacket. She plunges her hands into the depths of the jacket and finds his suspenders, tight against his body. She wraps her fingers around them and tugs. “You pretty gorgeous yourself, mister,” she whispers right before their lips collide.

Kissing Oliver Queen is her favorite pastime, without a doubt, and she relishes this kiss with the Christmas music playing in the distance mixed with the low chatter and their beating hearts. Every kiss is something new and every kiss sends her mind reeling into a fuzzy mess. Long ago she might have cursed herself for getting so caught up - so lost - in a kiss with a man. But now she knows better. She knows this isn’t truly being lost. She’s not searching for her way back to normalcy. She’s fighting to remain in this whirlwind of new experiences - fighting to keep everything she has gained with Oliver.

He breaks the kiss too soon. “We should be getting back,” he says as his forehead rests against hers and he sighs.

She sighs in return. “Are you sure?”

He lets out a small chuckle. “Yes.”

They share one simple kiss and then move away from the wall, hands laced together. They come out of the hallway and no one gives them a second glance, making Felicity wonder how often they might have seen Oliver do this with other women. But she knows this is different.

They mingle for a while, chatting with different people of Starling City society, faking smiles and laughter. She can sense Oliver’s annoyance with the duty and she squeezes his hand when she thinks he’s diving into impatience, toward rudeness.

Then they make their way to the main room - the one they had decorated the day before - and are greeted with an obnoxious laugh. “Ah  _ ha _ ! There you are! This must be the  _ lovely _ Felicity Smoak!”

A man walks over and she smiles broadly at him. She recognizes him from the video. She offers her hand. “And this must be the  _ infamous _ Tommy Merlyn!”

His contagious grins and laughter brightens her mood and eases Oliver’s tension. He takes Felicity’s hand and instead of shaking it, he kisses the top, lips lingering a little too long. Oliver lets out a low growl.

“Oh, calm now, buddy!” Tommy warns, letting her hand fall as he straightens and stares at Oliver. “I’m not making a move. You know that.”

“I would hope not. I know there’s a woman who wouldn’t be too pleased with such antics.”

Tommy nods. “Unfortunately I’ve lost her to the crowd.”

“Who?” Felicity asks, out of the loop.

“Laurel Lance,” both men say in unison.

“Your agent?”

Oliver nods. “One and the same!”

“Your agent is dating your best friend?”

Tommy shrugs. “Well, actually we’re engaged, but yes.” Then he leans in a little and playfully nudges Felicity. “What, jealous?”

She chuckles. “I think I’ve got enough on my plate with this one,” she says with a wink, patting Oliver on the chest.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.”

Their conversations continue with awkward innuendos and tales from their crazier days as Starling playboys. Drinks are served and emptied and refilled. Gentle patterns are drawn along the skin of her hand, then along the small of her back when Oliver pulls her close to him. The heat of the alcohol and his touch courses through her body and pools at her center, making her impatient for the night to end.

Then the music begins. Jazzy Christmas numbers that beg for dancing. For a moment, Oliver hesitates, eyeing the dance floor and then glancing down at her. She forms a little pout and he grins. “Okay,” he mouths and then tugs her forward to join the pairs pressed close together, swaying in time with the music. His hand returns to its favorite spot at the small of her back and the other grasps hers, lacing their fingers together. “Did I mention how gorgeous you look tonight?”

She blushes. “Did I mention the same thing to you?”

He leans forward and kisses the tip of her nose. “You might have, but you can always say it again.” He winks and she giggles.

“Nah. I’d rather you not get a big head,” she teases before she rest her head against his chest for moment - just long enough to catch the rhythmic sound of his heart beating.

It is the sound of something she’s avoided even thinking. The sound of something she’s dreamed of, but never truly believed would become a reality.

His beating heart is her home. Her true home. The place she longs to remain, through thick and thin, crazy schedules and absurd extravagance.  _ Oliver Queen has become my home. _

 

* * *

 

After many drinks and dances and laughs, Felicity sneaks away in search of a restroom. The mansion is huge, with winding hallways and darkened alcoves, and it doesn’t take long for her to leave the festive music behind, replaced by silence only broken by the clicks of her heels against the floor.

Then she hears it. A low buzz of conversation. Two voices. Two male voices. It doesn’t take long for her to see she’s found her way to Robert’s office and library, and one of the voices is clearly his. Light floods out onto the hallway from the crack of the door, making her heart begin hammering in her chest. Fast. Fearful.

“...I don’t see why you would entrust such responsibility to Oliver,” a British voice says, full of worry and skepticism.

“Come now, Walter,” Robert’s voice chides. “You and I both know how different Oliver is now. He’s matured and learned from his mistakes.”

Felicity eases into a spot by the door. She does not peek in, but remains inches away from the opening between the door and the frame.

“But is that enough for him to run Queen Consolidated?”

Her eyes widen at the words, everything spinning around in her brain. Oliver’s worry and stress. The hostility between Oliver and Robert. The awkwardness between every member of the family.  _ But why? He doesn’t even want that… _

“It has to be,” Robert answers, voice heavy with something - a deep rooted fear.

“Has he given you an answer yet?”

“No. But he still has some time to decide.”

“When will you make it public knowledge?”

She hears Robert sigh. A weary sigh of a burdened man. “Once the tests have been done and I get results back.” There’s a hesitation in his words and then he adds: “Once I know how long I have…”

Felicity stifles a gasp with her hand and then a foreign set of fingers latch onto her shoulder and pull her away with great force, nails digging in.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a cold female voice hisses. She glances up and sees Moira.

Felicity plants her feet and swats the woman’s hand away. “I was trying to find a restroom.”

“I don’t think that was a restroom,” Moira says, crossing her arms at her chest.

“No, it was not.”

“I’m not sure what you’ve been taught, but around here, eavesdropping is not polite.”

Felicity fights back a laugh. “I’m not sure what you’ve been taught, Mrs. Queen, but where I’m from it isn’t polite to lay hands on other people.”

Before Moira can retort, Oliver comes around the corner and halts his progress when he catches sight of Felicity’s defensive posture. “Mother? Felicity?” He moves forward, pace quickened. “What’s going on.”

“I just caught this one eavesdropping on your father and Mr. Steele.”

Oliver’s eyes dart between the two women, his breath coming out faster and shorter. Felicity senses his nervousness even before he speaks again. “Mother, can you leave us, please?”

“With pleasure,” Moira answers, eyeing Felicity with a satisfied smugness.

They wait for Moira to leave the hallway, and then they wait for a few more moments before leaving in the opposite direction until they reach a door that leads out onto a patio overlooking the darkened grounds. The silence between them is heavy and full of so many unspoken things. She grabs his hand, steadying him as he leans against the railing.

“Your father…” she begins, voice cutting off at the emotion she feels and the pain emanating from Oliver, flooding around them like fog.

“He’s dying,” Oliver says suddenly, voice thick and low, as if he’s fighting back tears. She grips his hand tighter. “Well, we assume he is. They’re still running tests.”

“And he wants you to take his place?”

In the darkness, she sees him nodding.

“Have you decided?”

He shakes his head.

“What’s stopping you?”

He doesn’t answer right away but she waits for him, patiently. She remains strong in the face of his struggle - the struggle he has endured on his own for so long. She hugs her arms against her body, hand still locked with his, and she rests her head against his shoulder.

“I don’t wanna lose my life - the life I’ve built. I don’t wanna lose my achievements or the job I’ve enjoyed for so long.” He pulls away and begins pacing the patio, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “But how do you say no to a dying man?”

“I-”

“How do you tell your dying father that you don’t wanna continue his legacy for him?”

“I don’t-”

“I can’t. There’s no way!” he shouts, voice strained. His hand falls, clenching into a fist that matches his other one. “I can’t say no. Putting all of our disagreements aside and all of our hostility, he’s still my father and I love him. I can’t say no to him.”

She rushes to him, arms wide, halting his progress mid-pace. “So you’ve decided then?”

His posture falls as he crumbles into her arms, pressing his face into her neck and her curls, tears dripping to coat her skin. She feels his shoulders shaking and his face scrunching into grieving sobs. And she can feel it. The true source of his fear and stress and sadness.

His life is changing, and not of his own volition. It is transforming into something he never wanted, never sought, never cared for. And in the midst of that looming change, he’s facing the loss of the man who raised him.

“I can’t decide, but I can’t say no,” he gasps out in a weak voice that shatters her heart.

She cradles him in her arms, letting all of her love for him seep out and comfort him. He stills and his breathing evens out. He lifts his head and then straightens his body, leaving her embrace to allow her into his own. She’s overcome by her love and devotion toward him and looks up, eyes filling with tears and everything she’s wondered about him since that night in Vegas. “Oliver,” she whispers.

He keeps his eyes trained on her. “Yeah?”

“No matter what you decide, I’ll be here for you.”

He holds her tight for a while, no more words needing to be spoken between them. The party inside dies down slowly, guests trickling out and driving away until the lights within begin to go out, the festivities over. Oliver sighs and breaks their embrace. “Time to go,” he says.

They sneak away and out to his car. He opens the door for her and then races to the driver’s side, sliding in beside her and starting it. He revs the engine and then they zoom away, the mansion and their worries behind them, the silence sticking around. The city envelops them with light and the streets are empty in the late hour, as if they are the only ones left in the maze of skyscrapers. Oliver’s hand inches over and covers hers, warm against her cold one.

They get to his building and the valet takes his car, leaving them to enter the building alone. They reach the elevator and wait for the doors to open, Oliver tapping his foot impatiently.

The doors slide open, revealing an empty elevator. Felicity’s heart speeds up and her tummy tumbles and flips in all sorts of impossible ways. Oliver tugs her in and without hesitation, his lips meet hers - insistent, forceful and full of every emotion he’s bottled up for so long mixed with their feelings for one another. He presses her against the wall and reaches over to press the button to stop their ascent. His hand glides over her curves, gather the fabric of her dress until he reaches her knee, then lifts it up along with her leg. She hooks it around his waist as he picks her up, her back against the wall keeping her steady.

His hands explores the skin beneath her dress and she grins against his lips as he discovers the secrets kept beneath. “Where’d you get that?” he asks as he plays with the lacy lines of the lingerie.

“Blame a certain little sister for this,” she answers, blushing.

“I’m not gonna mention any of this to her and I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just mention my sister during a moment like this.”

“Like what, exactly?” she asks with a mischievous nip at his chin.

“Like this,” he answers, sliding his fingertips beneath the lacy fabric of her panties to tease the skin beneath. Felicity stifles a moan.

“A moment like this is better left to the privacy of one’s home, don’t you think?”

He growls against her neck, his tongue dancing along her pulse point. “But don’t you want to see what you missed out on on our first date?”

Her heart begins hammering harder against her chest as he grabs at her ass, pushing her closer to his body. She moans, unable to stop it.  _ Am I up for elevator sex now?  _ Felicity wonders as she presses her lips to his once more, fighting off the reality outside the elevator. All of the stress. All of the worry. All of the scary uncertainties. She fights it all off and finds one simple answer.  _ I’m up for anything as long as I’m with Oliver. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me places:  
> tumblr: arrow-through-my-writers-block.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @miss_writer


	14. Hot, Cold & Places In-Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the lengthy delay between chapters! This chapter, for some odd reason, just wouldn't work for me. But here it is! I can honestly say that this went in an unexpected direction and changed my outline for this story a bit. Hopefully in a good way. I mean, I like it, and I assume y'all will like it too. ;)

**Felicity's Outfits:[1](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_14/set?id=198133752) | [2](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_14/set?id=198326098)**

* * *

 

They are naked, wrapped in blankets in front of the crackling fire. It hadn’t taken them long to move their passion into the penthouse, but they never made it to the bedroom. Oliver had dropped them onto the carpet in front of the couch, his body never disconnecting from her own until they were covered in sweat and completely bare.

Then the laziness had kicked in, leaving them in silence to stare at the fire until now.

Felicity’s mind is racing, jumping a million miles a minute despite her relaxed position against Oliver. She’s snuggled next to him, head resting on his chest as he’s propped against the frame of the couch, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing and the steady beating of his heart.  _ If this is heaven… _

She grins slightly, enjoying the sensations around her before the tumultuous thoughts take control once again. And that’s when she feels it. His tenseness. His worry. His stress. All of it creeping back into his muscles and causing the body she’s comfortably resting upon to stiffen. To grow rigid as the last remnants of their intimacy fades away. “Relax,” she murmurs against his skin, closing her eyes and trailing her fingertips along the ridges of his abs.

“I am,” he insists.

She shakes her head. “No, you’re not. I can feel you worrying.”

He lets out a chuckle that further disrupts her comfort, but she remains pressed against him. “How do you know me so well?” he asks, amazement etched in his tone.

Felicity smiles. “I guess we’re simply meant to be.”

Oliver hums in agreement and their content silence returns, though for Felicity, she’s plagued with her chaotic, meandering thoughts. Disjointed and full of dozens of emotions, doubled up by the worry she feels from Oliver.

“Now I can feel you thinking!”

She giggles and then sits up, blanket falling from her shoulders to pool in her naked lap. “Okay. I’ve been thinking… and I'm wondering. Why can’t you do both?”

Oliver shifts his body higher on the couch frame and folds his hands in his own lap. “Both?”

“Why can’t you act  _ and _ run the company?”

He sighs, letting all of his frustrations fill the action. Felicity watches as his hands clench and wring. She covers his tense fingers with her small hand and sends out encouragement through the touch. He finally speaks.

“I’ve seen what being CEO has done to my father,” he begins, eyes closed. Felicity can sense the images playing on the other side of his eyelids. “He’s never had a day to himself. Even family vacations were regularly interrupted by phone calls, followed by his disappearance. We all knew he was jetting back to Starling to solve problems or attend forgotten meetings. And we all suffered for it.”

“But surely there’s a way you can do what he couldn’t.”

Oliver shakes his head. “I don’t see how. As different as I am from him, I am still my father’s son…”

The words send a shiver of awkwardness through the air, threatening the calm they had made for themselves. Felicity continues to rub and squeeze his tortured hands, so tense and full of his worry. “You’re so much more than your father’s son, Oliver. You must know that.”

She watches his face soften at her words and she lifts her hands to his lips, kissing the skin gently. His eyes are closed and his breathing slightly more even. "If you say so," he mumbles on an exhale.

She nudges him playfully as they've done countless times before since some of their first interactions. "I do say so."

They stay that way for a while, sitting beside one another, the tension in the air tight but loosening with each passing second. Then Oliver clears his throat. "I wanna take you somewhere," he says, voice rough but full of interest and growing excitement. Completely out of nowhere. Surprising as usual.

"And where might that be?" Felicity asks, brow rising as she watches him throw the blankets aside to reveal the body hidden beneath, toned and chiseled and all of the other words that typically describe a Greek god.  _ Same thing, right? _

He eyes her with a mocking smirk. "You'll see. Just get dressed." He hops up from the floor and rushes toward the stairs to the second floor, taking them two at a time. "Wear something warm," he calls from the second floor landing.

She sits there for a moment, seeing a pattern but understanding it after some contemplation.  _ He's running away... he's ignoring the tough stuff.  _ She knows that's the way he copes - he has said as much before when discussing his past. And as unhealthy as it seems to her, she lets it go.  _ At least he's not running away from me. _

She goes to the bedroom and dresses quickly into a pair of old jeans, a sweatshirt and her coat. Her hair's a mess, slipping from the loose arrangement she had been so proud of before the party. The earrings are still dangling from her earlobes.

Felicity watches Oliver’s movements. He’s still tense, but there’s a distinct level of excitement radiating off him as he pulls on his shoes. He glances up and grins. “What?” he asks.

“Just watching you,” she murmurs as she slips on her sneakers.

“Clearly. But why?”

“You’re worth watching.”

After a few moments filled with a warm embrace and lingering kisses, they leave the penthouse and head to the car, hand in hand. He opens the door for her, closing it gently as she settles into the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt. He slides into the driver side and starts the car, revving the engine before letting the penthouse building fade away.

They zoom through the city, the moisture in the air splattering against the windows, distorting the world beyond. Felicity watches the scenery change from city lights to industrial shadows - and the darkness feels fitting somehow.

They pull up to a collection of old warehouses. They are dripping with rust stains and swarmed by lingering fog and steam. Through the fog, Felicity glimpses the sign at the top of the largest building, letters missing but the message is still clear: Queen Industries. Fences hug the buildings haphazardly, links drooping and gaping. She remains silent, taking in the sight and wondering why exactly Oliver felt the need to bring her to this place.

At first she assumes they are staying in the car, but Oliver cuts the engine and opens the door. She follows, letting the chilly night breeze brush her cheeks as they walk over to the fence. The gates are forced closed by chains and industrial padlocks, but Oliver doesn’t slow. He hops quickly up and over the fence, his feet hitting the damp ground with a light thud. Felicity laughs. “Yeah, right… cause I can totally do that.”

Oliver chuckles. “Sure you can. Just get a running start.”

She tilts her head in his direction and shakes her head. “Uh… no. I’ll fall on my ass.”

“You can do it, Felicity. Trust me.”

Their eyes remain locked and then Felicity groans, relenting. “Fine…” She takes a few steps back and then runs, her sneakers hitting the ground loudly, echoing off the concrete walls around them. Then she jumps, hands reaching for the links in the fence, grasping tightly. Her feet kick against the metal and soon she’s at the top, flinging herself over. And she squeals. Her body is in midair, no support and no way back. She’s never liked heights, and even though the fence can be no higher than ten feet, her heart is hammering in her chest and a cold sweat breaks out on her forehead.

But then a pair of strong arms are around her, lightening the impact as her feet touch the ground once more. “See. That wasn’t so bad.” Oliver kisses her nose and wraps his hand around hers, leading her away from the fences.

“Right. If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Oliver says, a smile clearly in his voice.

They move quietly through a compound of steel and welding factories, the biggest looming above them up ahead. The whole place feels older than it is, drenched in rust and gloom, neglected by the world. Felicity imagines the place teeming with loyal workers striving to earn their paychecks, but the darkness of the place distorts the images.

“My dad shut this place down a few years back. He claimed it was a bad investment and that the place was better left to rot.” Oliver pushes a door open and digs a small flashlight out of his back pocket, clicking the power button. The beam shines through the doorway, illuminating a room full of old equipment. A hole in the ceiling lets in streaks of moonlight, but not enough to display the room at large. “My dad isn’t one for failure. He likes to get out before it hits.”

They walk deeper into the building, toward a set of stairs leading down into the bowels of the factory. The fear Felicity felt as she fell through the air minutes before returns, brought on by the eeriness of the place. The flashlight beam gives them enough light to keep their footing on the old stairs until solid, concrete flooring meets the soles of their shoes. Then Oliver is pressing buttons and pulling levers on the wall.

Lights flicker overhead, dated and dim - ghosts of what they might have been years before. But they brighten the room, revealing training equipment and a random assortment of punching bags. On a rack, she glimpses strange weapons, sharp edges glinting in the overhead lighting. Felicity lets out a slight, nervous chuckle. “Is this where you kill me?”

“Of course.” Oliver rounds on her, pinning her against the wall, caging her in with his arms. His voice is low and threatening, but his lips are turned up in a grin and his eyes are bright with teasing. “That’s been my goal all along.” His lips find hers, tenderly brushing them, savoring the contact. Felicity closes her eyes, giving in.

His hands fall to her waist, gripping her coat with insistence. She does not make a move to shed the garment - instead she breaks their kiss and moves away from him. She walks over to the rack of weapons, touching the shining point of a spear. It is dull. Not sharp at all. "Why do you have film props here?"

Oliver shrugs. "How do you think I've become an expert at fight scenes?"

"Expert choreographers?"

He shakes his head. "They play a major part, but I've dedicated a lot of time to training with each weapon so it feels normal in my hands on the day of filming."

Felicity smiles. "Makes sense, I suppose." She finds her way to a towering object, similar to a ladder - rungs spread far apart. A bar rests at the lowest set of rungs. "What's this?"

She watches Oliver as he smiles seductively, shedding his coat and shirt to expose his sculpted chest and back to the chilly air. "I have a feeling you'll like this," he says with a wink before hopping up to grasp the bar. Then he's moving, swinging his body and forcing himself up the ladder by the sheer momentum and strength of his muscles. His arms flex, his veins pop, and a sweat begins to shine along his skin.

Felicity's mouth goes dry as she watches him dangle from the top rung for a moment, then brings himself down the ladder. He falls to the floor, the clatter of his feet hitting the ground echoing off the walls.

He steps forward, into her space. His breath his hot and labored, beating against her and fluttering locks of her hair. "Did you like that?"

For a second, all she can do is nod. "I'd like to see more."

His brow quirks up. "More?"

"Of your skills... your training skills."

"Ah," Oliver mumbles, then moves into a circle of punching bags. He begins striking blows and  kicks, letting the bags move in formation as he twirls and whirls, stopping each one before it can come into contact with anything but his fists or feet.

Then he moves to the rack of weapons, demonstrating each one with practiced ease until all that's left is a bow and quiver of arrows.

"Come here," he demands, and Felicity is quick to comply, shedding her coat before she is forced to fan her heated skin. "I wanna teach you how to shoot."

"Why?"

He kisses her cheek before wrapping her in his arms and placing her hands correctly onto the bow, an arrow nocked and ready. He whispers into her ear, sending a shiver up her spine. "Because I enjoy it and I'll enjoy watching you do it too."

So he instructs her on proper stance and aim, telling her to focus on the stationary target at the other end of the warehouse basement. "Now focus. Breathe. And release."

She lets the arrow fly and it whizzes through the air, cutting the silence until it tears into the target, a few inches away from the bullseye. She frowns, but Oliver is beaming.

"Fantastic!"

He goes to her then and the bow is forgotten, dropping from her hand to clatter against the floor as she reaches up, trailing her fingers against his chest. His heart is hammering, in time with her own. Their lips collide and he's lifting her up, cupping her ass. She wraps her legs around his waist, tugs off her sweater and then he's walking them over to the ladder until her hands grasp the bar. Then she's dangling, holding herself up and he slowly unbuckles his jeans before moving to give her his full attention.

He kisses her body, lips lingering at the place where her jeans hang on her hips as he slips the button free, followed by the zipper. He moves to her feet, tugging off her shoes and tossing them aside. Within moments, her pants are gone and his lips are back against her skin, fevered and demanding, trailing up her body starting at her ankles.

Her hands grip the bar as she lets out a moan as his tongue paints a streak along her left thigh, moving inward until all she can do is shudder. He lifts her legs up, spreading them to give him access to the warm crease of her hip. He nips and kisses her skin, bringing up goosebumps, then moves on, letting his lips trail along her torso until he finds her mouth.

Their kisses are ravenous, somehow primal. Her legs wrap around his waist once more and her hands fall onto his neck, nails digging in as he pulls aside her panties, thrusting them into overwhelming pleasure.

 

* * *

 

They rush up the steps to Queen Consolidated, cheeks flush from the winter chill and their own panic. Oliver’s hand is tight around hers and he’s pulling her - almost dragging her - along. She’s now seeing the extreme height difference between them. She’s always been proud of her legs, but compared to Oliver’s, they are short and unable to cover as much distance within one stride. She’s struggling to keep up. “Oliver, please,” she pants at the top of the stairs.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, then slows down.

They enter the building and the security guards at the doors and front desk wave them by with pinched smiles. She expects to go up the regular elevator with the rest of the pedestrian flow, but Oliver pulls her over to an executive elevator.

“Well, doesn’t this make me feel special.”

Oliver grins, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “It should. ‘Cause you are special.”

They stand side-by-side, facing the doors as they close. She can see people staring at her, and she wonders how many other women they used to see entering this same elevator with Oliver. She knows it is silly. She knows there’s no reason to dwell on Oliver’s promiscuous, playboy past. But it rests there for a moment, just long enough for her to realize that this is different.

_ Our relationship is so much different from the ones he’s had before. _

Everything she knows of Oliver’s past is temporary flings and one night stands. Nothing substantial. Nothing truly lasting. The reality of their connection hits her again as the elevator comes to a halt at one of the highest floors and the doors slide open, revealing marble flooring and lots of glass. Her contemplation of their relationship falls away as she glimpses the view from the windows.

Sky. Tops of skyscrapers. No ground. No stability. Simply clouds and open air.

She feels slightly faint, but she tamps it down.  _ I’m in a perfectly stable building and I don’t have to go anywhere near the windows. Just look at something else, Smoak. You’re good. _

She stares down, alternating between her shoes and Oliver’s hand wrapped protectively around hers. They enter an office and are greeted by Robert Queen and Walter Steele.

“Ah, Oliver,” Robert murmurs, setting aside a flurry of papers. “Nice of you to join us. I believe our meeting was meant to be an hour ago.”

Felicity feels Oliver’s hand tense around hers, his pulse growing faster with hidden anger. She draws herself closer to him, hugging his arm and giving him a reassuring nudge. He glances down at her, a smirk threatening the side of his lips. “Yeah, well… We lost track of time, dad,” Oliver answers.

“Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters,” Walter says, calm and not bothered by the lateness. A reassuring and level presence.

“Miss Smoak, not to seem rude, but I think this meeting should be a bit more private,” Robert says, voice frustrated and she glances up to see Oliver’s jaw drawn tight to keep himself from speaking out. “Nothing personal, but I’d prefer for you to wait outside.”

Felicity squeezes Oliver’s hand and smiles, hoping it shows him her support and confidence. His jaw releases some of its intensity long enough to give up a small smirk before she turns and leaves the room.

A row of chairs is lined up in front of the glass wall separating the office from the hallway. She takes a seat, crossing her legs and straightening her skirt. She fights the urge to turn and look into the office to use her expert lip reading skill. She knows what Oliver has decided - she knows what it will mean for him and for them as a couple. And she knows how it will impact the entire Queen family. So she remains seated for what seems like hours, fiddling with the purse resting in her lap and wishing she had brought a book with her.

A pair of footsteps click against the tile flooring at the end of the hall, just around the corner. Somehow Felicity knows who the source is - it could be no one else.  _ The universe isn’t on my side enough to keep her away from me. _

Moira Queen rounds the corner, the definition of corporate bitch in heels and perfectly styled hair. “Ah, Miss Smoak, left out of the meeting, I see.”

Felicity forces on a smile and nods. “Yeah, well, the boys needed their time to puff their chests, didn’t they?”

With anyone else or in any other situation, the comment would have received a chuckle, but Moira simply blinks, unamused. “This is a very serious matter, Miss Smoak, and I don’t think you’re treating it as such.”

Felicity glances down at her skirt, picking at a small ball of fuzz attached. “Well, I think humor can be invaluable in any situation, Mrs. Queen.”

“I’m afraid I disagree with you.”

_ What a shocker,  _ Felicity thinks as she glances through the glass to see Oliver shaking Walter’s hand and smiling his best forced smile.

“Excuse me?” Moira hisses.

Felicity closes her eyes and fights the urge to connect her forehead with that glass behind her in embarrassment for speaking her thoughts out loud. “Nothing.”

“Miss Smoak, you clearly don’t belong here.”

“I think I do,” she responds, looking up at Moira’s judgmental stare, meeting it with what she hopes is confidence.

“Trust me when I say that you are not welcome here, and you’re most certainly not welcome in this family. I will not have you tearing it apart.”

Felicity stands and steps toward Moira, eyes locked and shoulders squared. “Mrs. Queen, I can almost guarantee that you’ll do that without my help.”

Before she Moira can compose herself enough to respond, Felicity walks away to meet Oliver at the entrance to the office, reaching up to kiss his cheek for good measure before they leave and she fills him in on the exchange.

He chuckles and squeezes her hand as they exit the building. “I suppose that will make me decision about Christmas a little easier to make.”

Felicity looks up at him, brow raised. “What decision?”

“Whether or not to even be here. I was thinking that a white sand beach and you in a skimpy bikini seemed like a better way to spend my holiday.” He winks. That irresistible wink that melts her into mush.  _ Will he ever stop? _

“You wanna leave your family and go to some paradise with me for Christmas?” she asks, truly dumbfounded.

“Of course.”

“But your mother just accused me of tearing her family apart… how will this help?”

Oliver shrugs as they reach the car and he releases her hand and opens the passenger door for her. “I honestly don’t give a shit. I’ve already given them my answer to everything. They should not ask more of me - and she’s already grated on my nerves enough.”

Felicity slides in and the door shuts behind her as she buckles her seatbelt. Oliver rounds the car and slides in beside her, starting the engine. “But what about Thea?” she asks.

Oliver sighs. “I don’t know.”

“You shouldn’t leave Thea just because your mom pisses you off.”

A silence fills the car as Oliver navigates the streets of his city. Felicity watches him, studying his face and the way his muscles tense and relax as he clearly turns over every possibility. Then his eyes brighten and he smiles. “I’ve got an idea. You tell me if you like it.”

She turns slightly in her seat to face him, intrigued. “Shoot.”

“Why don’t we make it a group trip? We invite friends and co-workers. I can invite Thea and Tommy and whoever else. You invite your friends.”

“Don’t you think they would wanna spend time with their families?”

“They can join us after their family time…”

She lets the idea run in her mind. She imagines her and Oliver on a beach. She imagines being joined by their friends and having a crazy party in some island paradise. It sounds perfect. She reaches out and pats his knee. “I like it. Let’s do it!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think!? Leave a comment and let me know!
> 
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> tumblr: @arrow-through-my-writers-block  
> twitter: @miss_writer


	15. Island of Distractions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this very carefree chapter! I am quite pleased with the finished product. If you'd like some music to listen to while reading, try the following songs:
> 
> Island in the Sun by Weezer  
> Cake by the Ocean by DNCE  
> Venus by Sleeping At Last (this one just for the ending of the chapter)
> 
> Also, go check out [this amazing Starstruck gifset](http://arrow-through-my-writers-block.tumblr.com/post/154947460315/olicitysecretsanta-starstruck-celebrity-au) I was gifted for the Olicity Secret Santa. I may or may not have cried when I got it! Reblog it! Show it love! Cause it is amazing and deserve all the love!
> 
> And now... enjoy this chapter! :D
> 
> *as always, cover made by the lovely @doubledeez06 on tumblr!

[Felicity's outfits](http://www.polyvore.com/starstruck_15/collection?id=6219828)

* * *

 

The sound of lapping waves lulls Felicity in and out of sleep, her wide-brimmed sun hat keeping the harsh light of midday from interrupting her relaxation. She’s recovering from the flight and catching up on her tanning, her limbs stretched out along a fancy chaise provided by the resort.

 Oliver had spared no expense, opting for one of his favorite resorts and demanding the most luxurious suites - a bungalow separate from the main property. White, sheer curtains flutter behind her from the french doors on the porch looking out on the water. She hears their rhythmic rustling mixing with the ocean sounds and singing wind.

 “I think island life suits you,” Oliver whispers into her ear before kissing her neck languidly… lazily.

 “I think the relaxation would get old after a while,” she says, tilting her head to allow more access to her skin. His lips graze her pulsepoint. “Not to mention the lounging and drinking and overeating would turn me into a beached whale.”

 Oliver chuckles against her skin - she can feel his lips spreading into his usual intoxicating grin. “Well, there are certain physical activities that could keep that from happening.”

 “Incorrigible,” Felicity teases.

 “You love it.”

 And she does. So much. It has consumed her almost entirely. It causes her to ignore the annoyance and guilt she feels for allowing Oliver to run from the world… _again_ . His arms are enough to melt her into a puddle of blissful goo, and she has felt herself on the verge of her deepest fantasies. _He’s spoiled me rotten,_ she thinks as she finally opens her eyes to look into his. Blue and bright, matching the sparkling water just feet away from them.

 Those eyes distract her from everything. All of her worries and insecurities fall away with each second their eyes remain locked. As much as she dislikes the idea of their getaway, he’s thoroughly convinced her that it is worth every quiet, sensual, lazy moment.

“Let’s go for a swim.”

 She grins. “You don’t wanna see me swim.”

 “Oh, yes. I do.”

 “It isn’t pretty.”

 “So?”

 “Not swimming,” she says firmly.

 “Please?” His lips slide into an adorable pout and his eyes widen to mimic those of a begging puppy.

 She reaches for the script she discarded an hour ago and holds it between them, hiding her lips. “I think this is more important than swimming, Mr. Queen…”

 She watches him eye the script and she can see the happiness settling even deeper into his eyes. He might like the escape, but this project is his baby - the project that started everything.

 “You’re right…”

 “Of course I am,” she agrees with a giggle, dropping the script slightly to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Why don’t we work on it together?”

 He lights up even more. “Let me get my copy.”

 He’s gone for a few moments and she flips through the pages until she finds a scene she wants to work on. It's a doozy. Angry. Violent. Sexual. Everything she’s never played before. She’s never played such a complicated character and yet she’s not worried. She knows her own skills and knows her abilities. _I got this._

 Oliver returns with his script and she shows him the scene she’s chosen. For a moment he just stares at the page and she can tell he’s running through the scene in his head.

 She’s not expecting his sudden transformation and it scares her for a split second. He embraces his role, owning the morally gray facets of his character without hesitation. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he shouts, brows furrowed in anger as he locks into the role of Peter. His hand snaps out and locks around her free wrist, feigning tightness - the gentleness of Oliver Queen is still there beneath the character.

 She glances down at her script, scanning the words. “The woman you saved.”

 “Exactly,” he hisses in response. “ _I_ saved _you_. Not the other way around.”

 “Wrong!”

 “Excuse me?”

 They stare one another down and the tension becomes real. The beach fades away as the Russian cabin takes its place, complete with a crackling fire and an eerie dimness. “I’ve saved your ass repeatedly. You may have saved my life, but I’ve saved yours several times over.”

 “If it weren’t for you, I’d still have a home. Raisa would still be alive. I’d-”

 “Be living a life you despise.”

 The words halt the argument. They stare at one another for a moment. Felicity knows where the scene has to go. She knows it gets dark, but she’s waiting for Oliver to continue it. He closes the gap between them and locks his lips onto hers, aggressive… forceful. She raises her hand as she jerks backward, her hand landing with a clap against his cheek.

 “How dare you!” she shrieks, but he doesn’t stop, only grabs her wrists and holds her tighter, leaning in to press his lips to hers once more. “Stop,” she whimpers against his mouth, but even with the intensity of the scene and the implications of the actions of their characters, her lips against his spring up a desire. A real desire. A desire her character fights at every turn but she gives into at every opportunity. As Oliver pushes her backward onto the cushioned chaise, her legs open to welcome him. “Oliver,” she moans as he presses his body against hers.

 “Guess scene practice is over,” he murmurs against her skin.

 She giggles. “Oops.”

 “Now who’s incorrigible?”

 Felicity squints guiltily with a grin and points at herself. “This weirdo?”

 He nods into her neck, kissing her. “This gorgeous weirdo.”

 

* * *

 

 The boat rocks back and forth with the softly rolling waves, the water lapping against the sides. Felicity is sprawled out across the bow, the towel beneath her body soft and warm. Her eyes are closed against the sunlight, reminding her of Oliver’s comments the day before about laziness and island life. He’s watching her; she can feel his eyes lingering on her, cherishing.

 “Maybe you should take a picture,” she teases, shifting onto her stomach to see him sitting a few feet away from her, sunglasses hiding the glimmer she knows is sparkling in his eyes.

 “Why would I…” he begins as he scoots over to her and leans down, mouth lingering over the curvature of her spine, “...when I can just memorize you with my tongue.” His lips trail a line of kisses along her back, tongue snaking out and beneath the string of her bikini top to take the knot between his teeth and tug. With a little effort, he loosens it with a chuckle, then spreads his wide hand over the warm flesh. “I could just memorize the feel of your skin with my fingertips.”

 She sighs lazily, closing her eyes once again as she rests her head on her crossed arms. His fingers trace shapes and letters, sending her heart into a mess of stops and starts. Then she feels it. A distinct pattern of letters, strung together perfectly to express something important. Those three little words.

  _I love you._

 She hums in reciprocation, unable to speak in her relaxed state. He chuckles against her skin again, stubbled chin coming to rest on her shoulder as he sprawls out beside her.

 There’s nothing and no one around them. Not for miles. It's just them, the boat, and the expansive ocean. The thought sends a thrill through Felicity. She can easily imagine living on a boat with Oliver - just the two of them. She leans over and presses her lips against the space between his jaw and lips, loving the stubble against her mouth.

 She shifts and pushes Oliver down onto his back, head resting along the warm towel. She swings her leg over until she straddles him, her center resting against his. She removes his sunglasses slowly, seductively, her shadow keeping the sun away from his face. He grins up at her, eyes darkening even more than she had expected. She kisses his neck and trails her hands along his chest and down to his swim trunks, undoing the laces with deft fingers.

 It does take long for his trunks to be tugged down and her bikini to be untied at the sides and lost along the bow. It takes an even shorter time for their moans to carry along the wind as they tease and play, testing their limits and control. Felicity’s hands tremble against Oliver’s chest as she pushes up and finally brings their bodies together with on downward motion. And then they are lost in thrusts and moans, their skin growing slick with sweat as the sunlight beats down on their union.

 Oliver’s tongue echoes his promise, exploring her mouth and then tracing her jaw, neck and shoulders with interspersed kisses. Sensation is everything, transporting Felicity into a bubble where only they reside. His hands grope and squeeze her hips and ass, forcing them even closer together until he maneuvers flips them around, his body shielding her from the sun as she had done for him.

 They remain like that for a while until he pulls her up onto his lip and they sit there, moving together until their names are called out in simultaneous finality. Their bodies still and they just hold one another, listening to the beating of their hearts and the raggedness of their breathing. All of it in time with the rocking of the boat and lapping of waves. Soon they collapsed back into the towels, sprawled flat on their backs side-by-side. Neither of them say anything. They just stay there in a state of bliss and those three little words floating in the space between them.

  _I love you._

 

* * *

 

 They’ve spent the day actually running through the script, avoiding all problematic scenes so they can focus on the more emotional scenes that define their characters. Felicity can’t remember the last time she has felt so strongly for a character - her role in the show has grown so familiar and second nature that she doesn’t feel any surprise anymore, typically able to determine where the writers will go with the character for any given arc. But this film, this project with Oliver, is something new. Something bold. Something out of her element.

 Oliver is a wonderful partner, always helpful and easy to play off. But his lips are a distraction. With each word he speaks, his lips curve and move in the most sensual ways and Felicity cannot help but imagine them working their magic on her body.

 It is a miracle when Oliver looks at his watch and smiles. He leaves the couch they’ve been reading on and claps his hands. “Time to get ready for dinner!”

 Felicity raises her brows. “I thought we were just getting room service…”

 Oliver chuckles. “Not a chance. I’ve heard the sunset tonight is expected to be spectacular.”

 “What does that have to do with dinner, Oliver?”

 He leans forward, one hand on the couch on either side of her hips, and kisses her nose. “You’ll find out, now won’t you?”

 She giggles. This man does that to her constantly. He turns her into a ball of giggles which she both loves and hates. Never before has she been reduced to such a state. Never. No man has ever left her giggling or speechless before. But Oliver Queen did it regularly, and she’s certain he is proud of that fact. _Seriously… Warlock..._

 Oliver leaves to change and returns. He isn’t wearing anything too fancy, but the fit of his dress khakis and his white shirt draw her eye to all the right places. He grins, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. “I’m gonna go make sure our table is right. See you in a bit.” He comes over and gives her one last, lingering kiss, then leaves.

 She rushes to the bedroom and sifts through her suitcase, searching for the right dress. She’s packed so many flowing sundresses that it takes her a bit to find the asymmetrical striped dress. Once she finds it, she digs through the suitcase for some lingerie - pearly white and lacy… she knows Oliver will love them. As she slips into the panties, she grins. She knows she doesn’t need to wear them. She knows Oliver finds her sexy in anything; she could wear a trash bag and he’ll find a way to admire her. But she likes the feel of Oliver’s hands playing with the lace, the sensation of the lace sliding down her legs… and she loves the way Oliver’s eyes grow dark and lustful at the sight.

 She fastens the bra and then slides into the dress. She goes to the mirror and brushes through her hair, for once enjoying the natural waviness of it. She leaves it down. Her cheeks are flush from the island climate, skin unblemished. _I could get used to_ this _…_ she thinks, applying a little mascara to her lashes and some pink lipstick to her lips. Then she finds a necklace and a pair of heels.

 As she buckles the last shoe, she hears Oliver return. She stands, smooths out her dress and then goes out into the living room. Oliver catches sight of her and goes very still. He admires her curves, her lips, her hair. He looks her over from head to toe, never focusing on one detail more than another. Then he smiles, wide and full of happiness. “You look… gorgeous.”

  _I’ll never tire of hearing him say that…_

 They leave the bungalow and follow the path up to the resort, then take a path that cuts away from the main buildings and toward another part of the beachfront. The restaurant is lit by torches and strung-up fairy lights, lending a warm glow to the outdoor space. It is still light out, with the sun dipping lower and lower along the horizon. The sky above them is a slowly darkening gray. A man leads them to their table, menus in hand. Oliver thanks him and then helps Felicity into her seat. When she looks up and to her right, she sees the ocean in all its expansive glory, tinged in reds and pinks and purples with the radiant sunset. Her breath catches. “Wow,” she murmurs.

 Oliver reaches over and takes her hand, his thumb tracing a circle along the top. “I told you it’d be spectacular.”

 She nods. “I guess you did.”

 They pick their entrees and chat about nothing in particular, all light-hearted and carefree. Beneath the surface the impending press conference is there, looming in the not so distant future like a nightmare. She can see it in Oliver’s eyes. A small point of darkness at the edges that threatens to overtake the loveliness of their exotic holiday. She’s attempted to distract him, but there’s only so many turns of conversation that she can use before reality grips them.

 She glances up at him as the waiter drops off their food. “Are you ready?”

 She doesn’t need to elaborate. She can tell from the sudden stiffness in his posture. He shakes his head. “How am I supposed to be ready for something like that?”

 She shrugs as she takes a bite of the delicate fish on her plate, covered in a tropical sauce that has her mouth tingling with flavor. “I guess you can’t…” She takes a sip of her wine. “Have you ever thought of finding ways to expand Queen Consolidated?”

 He raises a brow at her. “Expand?”

 “Like, somehow fit the film industry into the company’s future investments?”

 He stares at her, a perfectly crafted bite of food on his fork sitting in his hand, forgotten. The words are sinking in and the dark space in his eyes shifting… roiling into something less gloomy. He smiles. “I’ve never thought of that really. They’ve never had an interest in anything resembling the arts.”

 “But if you’re in charge of the company, I’m sure they’ll reconsider.”

 Oliver turns his head toward the dimming horizon. She can almost hear the wheels turning in his head beneath the steady rhythm of the tide. And she lets the wheels turn… she lets him contemplate and stew in the possibilities that had never occurred to him. She’ll endure the silence if it means he’s finding hope in the future.

 They get dessert to share, fighting over the decadence like children unwilling to share a toy. They are playful despite the seriousness she had sprung on him. He’s smiling and laughing, eyeing her with that look that makes her heart melt, and she realizes that the look is filled with gratefulness too. So as they walk back to their bungalow, her holding onto his arm as they go, she can’t help but look up at him with all of the emotions she’s felt since she met him…

 “You’re gonna do well, Oliver,” she says as they near the door. “There’s nothing you can’t do.”

 

* * *

 

 They awake the next morning to a flurry of knocks on their door. It is earlier than expected and Oliver groans as they both get up and throw on their robes. Felicity is the first to reach the door, anxious to see her best friends even after only a few days apart. The door isn’t even open before Roy is shoving past her and into the bungalow, horrific Hawaiian shirt assaulting her eyes.

 “This is awesome!” he shouts as whirls around the living room of the bungalow, his shirt becoming a blur of neon.

 “You’re early,” Felicity says as she tries to keep her head from spinning at Roy’s movement.

 “I didn’t think it’d be an issue,” he responds, then looks from her to Oliver, who has just stepped through the doorway from the bedroom, robed and yawning. “Or did you not get enough beauty sleep after a night with sex master Oliver Queen here?” He pats Oliver on the shoulder and wags his brows, drawing out a rare eye roll from Oliver.

 “Very subtle, Mr. Harper.”

 Roy scrunches his nose at the formality. “I know it's been a while since we’ve been in a same room, but since you’ve dragged my drunk ass through a San Diego hotel, we should be on a first name basis by now.”

 “ _Roy_ ,” Oliver corrects with a blank stare, a hint of a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth.

 “Well, you’re here. I guess we should order some breakfast,” Felicity says as she turns toward the phone on the end table.

 Roy grins. “I may not have been the only one who got an earlier flight.”

 Felicity’s eyes narrow in suspicion and she looks out the door to see a trio of people walking up the pathway. Thea is giggling at some joke of Tommy’s while Laurel swiftly smacks his arm disapprovingly. “Really?” Felicity hears her say, but under the annoyance is complete amusement. His jokes might be absurd, but she clearly loves him for his willingness to share them.

 It is her first time meeting Laurel - they hadn’t had the chance to interact at the Christmas party - but Tommy’s glowing descriptions and chatter, along with the numerous photos of the three of them displayed in Oliver’s home and the mansion, paint her in a lovely light. And her legal expertise is invaluable to Oliver’s career. But it is this interaction with Tommy, coupled with his heart eyes locked, that defines Felicity’s first impression of Laurel Lance.

 “Felicity!” Thea shouts as she hurtles herself into a hug that can only a described as sisterly. It warms Felicity’s heart before reminding her of the rest of the Queen family. _How can she accept me so quickly, but the rest of the family despises me?_

 Thea runs through the door and jumps into Oliver's arms. Out of the corner of her eye, Felicity can see Roy watching - _gazing_ \- at Thea like he’s been hit by cupid’s arrow. As she expected. Those videos and Thea’s interest in Roy gave Felicity the idea to be certain they both were included in this getaway.

 “Mom and dad are _furious_ , Ollie!”

 “As I expected.”

 “Ollie, this might’ve been our last Christmas with dad.”

 Oliver shakes his head. “Doubt it. He’s gonna stick around to watch me fail.”

 “ _Ollie_ …” Thea growls.

 Felicity ignores the rest of this exchange and turns her attention to Tommy. He’s grinning from ear to ear. “Felicity _Smokin’_! It's been too long,” he gushes with bright eyes as interspersed laughter.

 “Oh stop, you flirt,” Felicity waves his playfulness away and turns toward Laurel. “How do you put up with this guy?” Felicity points at Tommy and he feigns offense.

 “It is a challenge,” Laurel laughs, nudging Tommy as she winks. “But worth it.” The she offers Felicity her hand. “I’m Laurel.”

 “Felicity,” she says, taking the proffered hand firmly. Then, as she looks around and then at her hand, she remembers she’s still in just her robe and underwear. “And I’m basically naked. I’m gonna get dressed now, if you don’t mind.”

 As she rushes into the bedroom she hears Roy tease: “Good idea.”

 

* * *

 

 They are crowded around the little coffee table with plates of waffles and fruit. The guys stuff their faces with hashbrowns and bacon. Flutes of mimosas clink against one another and the conversation is easy and full of life -  all fun and no worries. Felicity watches Oliver as the meal continues. The lines of worry that had begun to collect around his eyes are barely there and his posture is still as relaxed as they had been the previous days spent frolicking on the beach. She initially worried that their friends’ arrival would bring him reminders of what awaited him on New Year's’ Day, when the world would learn of his father’s illness and the rise of another Queen to the corporate throne.

 But he’s laughing. He’s smiling. He’s joking with Tommy as if nothing has happened - as if he isn’t dreading the life waiting for him. It eases Felicity’s mind and gives her hope for his return to reality.

 It doesn’t take everyone long to get impatient for the beach, and they head out with towels and beach balls, all the ladies shrouded in wide-brimmed hats. They all tease Roy for his shirt until he finally sheds it to reveal his pale torso. “I’ve been working too much! I need some sun!”

 Thea gawks at his muscles and Felicity stifles a giggle. She nudges Oliver and nods her head toward his sister and he lets out a low growl. “Not funny,” he mumbles.

 “Oh, please… let it happen.”

 He shakes his head exasperatedly steps away and begins spreading out the towels. Laurel and Felicity collapse onto theirs and begin applying their sun tan lotion.

 “Can I join you?” Roy asks.

 Before anyone can answer, a ball collides with his head and he looks over the see Thea eyeing him with a challenging stance, her wide grin playful.

 “Excuse me?” Roy teases as he retrieves the ball and feigns a violent toss in her direction. She runs out toward the water and he follows.

 Laurel smiles as she stretches onto her stomach and opens a large book. “That’s cute.”

 “Kinda perfect, right?” Felicity asks.

 “Without a doubt.”

 A silence falls between them and Felicity watches the rest of the group splashing and laughing in the waves. Carefree and full of life. After a few moments, she closes her eyes and lets the relaxation overtake her and the sun tint her skin.

 “I’ve never seen Ollie so happy,” Laurel says some time later. Felicity opens her eyes to see that she’s closed her book and is watching everyone.

 “Really?”

 Laurel nods. “I’ve known him since we were kids and I can say with certainty that he’s never been this truly happy.” She shifts her attention to Felicity and smiles. “I think it’s because of you.”

 “I highly doubt it,” she responds.

 “I’m not lying here. You’ve brought something to him that I’ve never seen before. He’s focused and much more thoughtful.”

 “He wasn’t always thoughtful?”

 Laurel shrugs. “Well, I mean, he was thoughtful in the sense that he’d help you if you needed him. And lord knows he’s helped me through some tough stuff. But he’s never been thoughtful on a grand scale. I heard what he’s agreed to…”

 Felicity frowns and nods. “He’s not happy about it.”

 “But he’s doing the right thing… and that’s not something Ollie typically does.”

 “I worry about his decision… will he be happy in the long run?”

 Laurel grins. “If you’re there to help him through, I think he will be. Even though he’s setting his career aside to take on QC, I think he’ll have plenty of chances to continue with what he loves once he’s settled into his place at the company.”

 “I’ve been helping him accept that. I truly believe that he can incorporate his passions into the company, but he’s not as optimistic.”

 Laurel reaches over the pats Felicity’s hands encouragingly. “He’ll get there. Just keep pushing him.”

 Suddenly, Tommy rushes over and hauls Laurel up off her towel. “Time to get wet, my dear! And for once, I’m not meaning it dirty!”

 Felicity laughs, unties her sarong, and leaves her towel to run out into the waves, her hat falling from her head with the rush. Oliver is waiting for her, his smile wide and his fingers twitching in anticipation as he leaves his arms open for her, invitingly. She jumps into those waiting arms legs wrapping around his hips. As her own arms wind around his neck, she plants a playful kiss onto nose.

 “What’s that for?” he asks, nuzzling against her.

 She shrugs. “Just happy you’re happy,” she says.

 “Of course I’m happy. I’m with you and other people I love in paradise.”

 Their lips brush and they are about to deepen the movement when a cascade of water assaults them. They look to the side to find the source: Thea and Roy, side-by-side and the definition of looming romance, teamed up and ready to cause chaos.

 “Speedy, you’ll pay for that,” Oliver teases as he drops Felicity to her feet and begins moving toward his sister, hans churning the water as he goes. And so the water fight begins.

 

* * *

 

The guys are setting up a bonfire and chatting about nothing in particular. Sports. Projects. The plan for New Year’s Eve. Felicity watches them while she begins opening the bottles of wine they’ve brought with them. Thea is hovering around, shifting from foot to foot in what seems a mixture of impatience and nervousness that Felicity can see out of the corner of her eye.

Felicity turns toward her and grins. “If you’re gonna keep doing that, you might as well tell me what you’re so nervous about.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’re hovering. It’s getting annoying. What’s going on?”

For a few moments, Thea just stands there avoiding Felicity’s pointed gaze, bottom lip help nervously by her teeth. Then she sighs and throws up her hands. “Fine…” She steps closer and leans in so her words can come out lower, more secretive. “Do you think Oliver would be pissed if… well… if Roy and I… me and Roy…”

 “If you guys started dating?” Felicity blurts.

 “Shh!”

 “It’s not a secret you’ve been flirting all day. I doubt he’ll care if it becomes something more.”

 Thea’s eyes narrow skeptically. “But he’s Ollie.”

 “He loves you and trusts you, Thea. If you wanna date Roy Harper, date Roy Harper. He’s a sarcastic asshole, in case you’re unaware.”

 “I’m aware.”

 “Good. Then go for it.”

 The conversation ends as Oliver gets the bonfire lit and the crackling of the beach wood melds with the lapping tide. Sunset is intensifying and they all gather around to watch its brilliance. Felicity buries herself into Oliver’s embrace, her body resting between his legs as she leans back against his chest, his arms a cocoon of warmth. Laurel and Tommy are cuddled together in much the same fashion. Tommy brushes his fingers through her hair, so familiar and absentmindedly, a sign of it being a habit for him.

 Felicity watches Roy and Thea as the conversation still looms at the front of her mind. They are at least half a foot apart, awkwardly sitting with their hands even closer between them, fingers pointing toward one another. It reminds Felicity of all those movies she fawned over as a child, with romance lingering in the space between two people, just waiting to be grasped at. She glances at Laurel and can see she’s watching them too with the same impatience.

 Tommy clears his throat after a while. “Anyone wanna play Truth or Dare?” he asks. The option brings a groan from Laurel’s lips and a chuckle from Oliver’s.

 “What’s so funny?” Felicity asks, craning her neck to take a look at Oliver.

 “Truth or Dare is how those two finally took the leap.”

 She shifts her attention to Tommy and Laurel to find embarrassment flushing their cheeks. “Really?”

 Laurel nods. “Oliver knew we both were interested but weren’t telling each other.” At Felicity’s confused brow raise, Laurel elaborates with: “We both confided in him about our feelings.”

 “Ah, I see. So did he force your hands with a truth, or a dare?”

 “Dare,” they answer simultaneously, then smile at the memory.

 Oliver laughs. “It took me daring Laurel to kiss him for either of them to make a damn move.”

 “Well,” Tommy says with a loving glance toward Laurel, “I’m glad you did.”

 Felicity smiles at the whole exchange, then rubs her hands together. “Can I go first?” She doesn’t wait for anyone to object or approve. “Thea…”

 Oliver’s eyes go wide and then she slowly glares at Felicity.

 “Truth or dare?” Felicity asks with a smug, devilish grin.

 “Dare.”

 “Kiss Roy.”

 Everyone falls silent. Oliver tenses behind her and Tommy claps his hands excitedly. Laurel looks at the shocked pair. “Well?” Tommy teases.

 “Tommy!” Laurel scolds. “Give them ti-”

 Thea turns and grabs Roy’s face and plants a long, lingering, passionate kiss on his mouth. Oliver growls beside Felicity disapprovingly. “Oh, stop it, Oliver. This is cute.”

 “It’s my sister kissing your best friend. I’d rather not watch this.”

 When Roy and Thea pull apart, they are all smiles and blushes. “I think that’s enough Truth or Dare for one bonfire,” Roy says as he wraps his arm around Thea, pulling her close against him.

 

* * *

 

 It is late. The fire has died into a flickering remnant of its original fierceness and the others have fallen asleep with the heavy dreariness of too much wine. Felicity and Oliver stare up at the vast starry sky, their fingers woven together between them, mixing with the cool sand beneath. A breeze has picked up, chilling the world around them just enough. It is comfortable. Quiet.

 Oliver squeezes her hand. “I used to obsess over the stars when I was a kid.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah. For a long time I wanted to be an astronaut, but I wasn’t exactly the best student.”

 “I don’t think I’d ever wanna go into space,” Felicity says, trying to lighten the mood. “Too big and quiet.”

 “That’s what seems so great about it.” For a few minutes, Oliver goes silent and she knows he’s thinking back to his childhood and what might’ve spurred this desire so early on. “I used to imagine my life as a constant search for something in the stars,” he finally continues, shifting in the sand to face her. “For a while I thought I was just looking for purpose… a career of my own. And that felt fulfilling, sure, but something was always missing.”

 He leans in and kisses her nose and then her lips just once.

 “And then I agreed to a mixed panel at Comic-Con and met you.”

 She’s glad the fire has died down so low. She doesn’t want him to see the tears that are forming in her eyes and trickling down her cheek.

 “I think, just maybe, I was looking for you all along.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave comments and kudos - they are much appreciated and mean the world to me!
> 
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> tumblr: @arrow-through-my-writers-block  
> twitter: @miss_writer


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